


Cognitive Dissonance

by Katyaton



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, Post Ep 12, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Russian Skating Family, Suspense, Thriller, Yuuri in St. Petersburg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 90,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyaton/pseuds/Katyaton
Summary: When Yuuri gets kidnapped one night in St. Petersburg, all hell breaks loose. The police claim they are doing all they can to find him, but with so little clues to track him down, it seems like he’ll never be found. Viktor begins growing desperate, and just as it seems like his Yuuri will never be rescued, he and the police come across a startling video - A video of Yuuri.This video may be just what they need to identify Yuuri’s location, but with Yuuri’s safety at stake, will it be enough to track him down in time? And just what does the kidnapper want with Yuuri?Yuuri, meanwhile, has been asking himself the same thing.





	1. Last Light

“Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.”   
―  **Alice Sebold**,  **The Lovely Bones**

 

 

**Prologue**

Evil came in many forms, Yuuri thought grimly.

Sometimes evil ensnared people from a simple misguided thought. Righteous yet delusional, they infected one like a vice, eventually rendering the victim unable to discern their own person from that of the malignity.

_Shick._

Sometimes evil came from good intentions, idealistic perspectives. Seemingly moral outcomes could cloud the victim’s heart, leaving them blind to the true evil that befell them in their absence from reality.

_Shick. Shick._

But sometimes, _oh sometimes_ , evil simply had no reason, no purpose.

It simply _was_.

_Shick. Shick. Shick._

And that, Yuuri concluded, was perhaps the most frightening form of all.

 

**Chapter One: Last Light**

_Chink._

Yuuri let out a startled gasp, falling to the ice roughly. He threw his hands out in desperation to brace his fall, but the ice rushed up to him too quickly, rendering his effort futile. His head took the brunt of the fall, colliding on the ice with a decisive smack. He heaved as all the air in his lungs puffed out of him from the abrupt impact.

 _God_ , his head felt like it had been smacked with a sledgehammer. A ringing white noise buzzed in his ears, slowly fading as other errant noises began filtering in. He whimpered, somehow finding the strength to roll onto his back. As Yuuri opened his eyes, he squinted as the bleary lights overhead melded into rough, indistinguishable blobs.

He groaned, pressing his palm against his throbbing head.

“Yuuri!”

Someone skated over. Yuuri felt prickles of ice dot his arm as they came to an abrupt halt.

“Yuuri! Yuuri are you ok?” the voice demanded, growing more frantic, “Yuuri can you hear me?”

  _Oh._

Yuuri knew that voice. He knew it quite intimately, in fact – how could he forget?

“Viktor,” he groaned, peering groggily in his general direction.

“Oh, Yuuri!”

He was suddenly enveloped, wrapped securely in the cocoon of Viktor’s arms. This hug was loose and gentle, though, lacking his usual enthusiasm and force; he was being much more delicate with Yuuri.

A soft hand started carding through his hair.

Peering blearily at the rough outline above him, he could just make out Viktor’s silver hair and bright blue eyes. He heard Viktor suck in a sharp gasp of air.

“Yuuri, your – your pupils …”

Yuuri furrowed his brows as he tried to focus on Viktor unsuccessfully. What was that supposed to mean? Yuuri winced as his head throbbed sharply. Maybe it was for the best if he didn’t think too hard about anything right now.

A gruff voice echoed across the rink. “Vitya, Yuuri is everything alright?”

The blob shaped Viktor glanced in the direction of the voice. “Yakov! Yakov, we need to call for an ambulance!” he called desperately. His voice started choking up a bit. “He hit his head really hard. I think he may have a concussion!”

Yuuri heard a few gasps and curses in response to Viktor’s statement.

Ah, so he may have a concussion. That would make sense, he supposed, especially considering the increasing pain in his temples. He closed his eyes now, desperate to block out the throbbing light. The conversations around him dissolved into an unintelligible mush as he faded in and out of consciousness. He gasped as he felt a mild shaking across his shoulders.

“Yuuri it’s important to stay awake, ok?” a soft voice murmured. His eyes fluttered. He could feel himself propped up on someone’s lap.

He tried his best to stay awake, he really did, but it felt nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. His lids felt insurmountably heavy.

A light slap across his cheek jolted his eyes open. “Oi, Katsudon! Wake up!”

Oh. Yurio.

When did he get here? Yuuri scrunched his eyes. Time wasn't running properly...

“Yura, be careful with him!” a voice admonished.

He groaned, reaching his hand out helplessly for Viktor - He would be able to keep Yuuri grounded. It only took a fraction of a second for Yuuri’s hand to be enveloped in his grip. Yuuri sighed at the familiarity. Viktor started stroking his thumb over the back of his hand.

“Love, the ambulance will be here in a few minutes. We need to try to get you off the rink. Do you think you can stand?” It was a soft voice - Viktor’s voice. It still sounded a little shaky.

“Yes… yes I think so.”

His head lolled a bit as he felt secure arms lift him from underneath. Now upright, he melted against a warm chest.

“Oh, shit. Your blade broke! What a piece of crap!” Yurio exclaimed angrily.

Ah. So that’s why he fell. Well at least the fault wasn’t his own.

Two people braced Yuuri on either side. They each clutched one of his arms and looped it across their shoulders before they began moving. It was slow going, or at least it seemed that way to Yuuri in his exhausted state, but they eventually made it to the edge of the rink and off the ice. Awareness fading in and out, Yuuri vaguely registered himself being lowered onto a bench. Back resting against someone warm, Yuuri nearly faded out again until a tugging sensation on his feet jolted his eyes open. He could just make out a red blob - Mila, his confused brain offered him – removing his skates.

“Good lord, these skates were brand new, weren’t they, Viktor?”

Viktor hummed in agreement, sending little vibrations through Yuuri.

Ah, so the warm chest Yuuri was leaning against was his. He sighed, relaxing even further as he nuzzled his head against Viktor’s bulk. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Viktor always smelled so good – pleasantly musky, yet sweet, especially after a long day of practice.

A soft caress feathered his cheek while Viktor gave him a quick kiss.

“Everything will be ok, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri hummed, burrowing into the crook of Viktor’s neck.

“Just stay awake for a little longer, then I promise you can sleep all you want.” A firm kiss pressed against his lips. Even in his altered state, Yuuri’s heart couldn’t help but flutter – It always did when Viktor was involved. “You can do that for me, can’t you Yuuri?”

He would do just about anything for Viktor.

“Y-yes”

Despite his exhaustion, Yuuri pried his eyes open. He could just make out Mila, Yurio, and Georgi hovering nearby. The bright lights of the rink were still a bit blurry, but they were far from the shapeless blobs he perceived just after falling. Yuuri blinked, trying to force his brain to get its bearings again.

Viktor’s fringe tickled against his forehead, his hands stroked his arms. Yuuri tried to focus on him - the steady inflation of his chest, his lovely smell, the little puffs of warm air that tickled his temple as Viktor exhaled.

Georgi shuffled closer to Yuuri, angling his head a bit to lock eyes with him. “Do you need water or anything, Yuuri?” His deep voice was soothing in its timbre, blocking out some of the remaining ringing in his ears.

Yuuri sighed. “That’d be great, thanks.”

A quick scuffling noise met his ears before a water bottle was shoved in his face.

“Here, Katsudon. Drink up!” Yurio insisted, shaking the half empty bottle slightly.

Yuuri grasped it, giving what he hoped was a grateful smile. “Thank you Yurio.”

Yurio hummed, pleased with himself. He leaned against the rink's wall as he crossed his arms.  “You have to be quicker than that, Georgi!”

As Georgi released a huff, Yuuri couldn’t help the slight smile that inched across his face. He had been a little worried about coming all the way to a new country that spoke a language he didn’t know, surrounded by a foreign culture. Without any of his friends and family - other than Viktor and Yurio of course – he feared he would feel quite alone.

One day in St. Petersburg was enough to erase all of those misconceptions, though. The Russian skaters enveloped him into the fold immediately, throwing Viktor and himself a welcome party after the first day of practice. The younger skaters also took a liking to Yuuri, coming to him occasionally for advice on their step sequences because they insisted that he was the best at them. (Yurio would always scowl and scoff when they said this, yet he never denied it). Even Yakov seemed to tolerate Yuuri well enough, throwing him the occasional, approving smile every time Yuuri nailed a particularly hard part of his routine or stayed late after practice to work on an element. Glancing at the group surrounding him now, he felt his heart swell. They were as much his family as the one he had in Japan.

A door opened and closed quietly as someone marched up to their group. Yuuri felt Viktor turn slightly.

“Vitya, the ambulance is here. They’ll be coming through with a stretcher in a few minutes.”

“Mmm. Thank you, Yakov.”

Yakov grunted, telling them that he was leaving to assist the first responders.

Viktor started stroking his hair as he squeezed him a bit tighter to his chest. “I’ll be with you the whole time, Yuuri. I’ll ride over to the hospital with you, they’ll check you out, and then we’ll go home together,” he crooned softly. “I’ll set you up on the coach with that soft downy blanket you love and a good dose of Makkachin.” Viktor paused, using his other hand to grasp Yuuri’s. “I’ll even make you a bowl of Katsudon! You’d like that, no?”

Yuuri smiled wryly at the thought, feeling his stomach give a sympathetic lurch. Everyone knew, except Viktor, ironically enough, that his cooking was rather horrifying. He attempted to cook for the team several times while they were at their apartment, each meal resulting in varying stages of disaster. Georgi had actually gotten Yuuri a fire extinguisher for Christmas on the down low, urging him to keep it nearby when Viktor got going.

Yurio came to his rescue, speaking hurriedly. “Hey, don’t worry about that Viktor. I can bring over my piroshki, yeah? Besides, you’ll be too busy with Yuuri to worry about making food.”

"Wow, Yurio," Viktor chuckled quietly. Yuuri could feel the vibrations tickle pleasantly through his body. He burrowed in closer. "That's so considerate of you. You must really be concerned!"

Yurio startled. “W-what? Of course I am! I can’t have you two being too tired to come to practice. Dealing with the hag bye myself would be a nightmare!” he huffed, arms crossed tightly over his small frame.

Mila snorted and stalked up to Yurio, a sly look on her face. He watched her warily until she began poking him all over his stomach. Yurio let out a shriek as he dissolved unwillingly into choked laughter, flapping his arms in distress.

“Is that so, dear Yura? Want to see what I’m like when I really try to annoy you?” she drawled.

“Stop!” He tried to make his voice angry, but was unsuccessful as laughs overtook him. “I’m telling you, hag! Stop poking me!”

Deftly extracting himself, he skirted away from Mila’s clutches, bending over and inhaling heavily as he caught his breathe.

Mila let out a cackle.

Yurio sat up, shooting her an annoyed look, then glanced at Yuuri, his expression falling to one of concern.

Yuuri threw him a grateful look. Yurio smiled shakily for a second, then abruptly turned his head as a loud sound emitted nearby.

The door banging open broke the relative calm as the stretcher and the paramedics came rolling in. Yuuri tensed, feeling as if a sudden vice was gripping him. The reality of the situation hadn’t set in until the stretcher rolled in just now. Distracting himself from the imminent was easy with Yurio’s antics or Viktor’s presence, but now that the paramedics were here he had no choice but to face the reality of the situation. His breathing increased sharply as his heart tattooed a quick rhythm in his chest. He gripped Viktor’s hand tightly.

“Shhh, shhh, my love. Remember what I said?” Viktor leaned close, whispering in his ear. “Everything will be fine. Just breathe, Yuuri,” he soothed. Yuuri exhaled shakily, trying to block out the rapid fire Russian being spoken between the paramedics and Yakov.  “Nice and slow, that’s it.”

The paramedics shooed Viktor away from him, and Yuuri felt his absence heavily. He needed him back, why would they take him away? His breathing turned shallow and rapid as his vision swam. Maybe he wasn’t quite alright after all, maybe they’d have to do an operation, maybe –

Viktor grasped his hand as the paramedics leaned him back in the stretcher, _and oh_ , when did he even get up here? The time jump was startling.

Yuuri turned his head desperately towards Viktor, focusing on his face as he was carted away. The lights in the ceiling blurred together in his periphery, but Yuuri forced himself to focus on Viktor’s soft, loving expression. Yuuri felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, felt his breathing quicken despite Viktor’s reassurance, felt his body begin to tremble. Keeping his eyes locked on Viktor was the only way he was keeping himself grounded.

Yuuri noted the cold air that burst across him when they finally reached the outside. Yuuri glanced up at the sky, surprised when he could spot a few stars. Normally it was too foggy or too bright to see any stars in St. Petersburg. He wondered why tonight, of all nights, he could just make out a few of them.

Ursa Major twinkled down upon him – It was his homing cluster, of sorts. That constellation was one of the first ones he ever learned to identify at the astronomy club back in Detroit, so it naturally became the cluster he used to orient himself when stargazing. Seeing it now managed to calm him a bit, reminding him of memories long past.

The paramedics started speaking in Russian again as they prepared to load him up. Yuuri felt a renewed spike of fear grip his heart.

“I’ll be here the whole time, Yuuri. Just like I said.”

Viktor. _Oh god, Viktor_.

Yuuri must surely be cutting of the circulation in his hand by now, but he showed no sign of distress. His gaze remained steady and true, his soft voice righting him when he needed it most.  

Yuuri’s lips quivered, gripping his hand with a surprising strength. “Stay close to me Viktor.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled, and in their unfathomable beauty, glittering and endless, they were just like the stars above.

“Always.”

Yuuri let out a puff of air, leaning into Viktor’s hand as he stroked his cheek. He would never tire of gazing into the light that Viktor emitted.

Viktor’s smile increased, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Yuuri I –”

_Boom!_

A sudden shot rang out on the street, halting Viktor’s statement. It sounded like a gunshot, Yuuri thought worriedly. And even more scarily, it sounded like it originated from the front of the ambulance. Viktor froze, alternating between staring in that direction and glancing back down at Yuuri.

Two of the paramedics overcame their shock, and after muttering a few phrases that Yuuri couldn’t make out, they inched their way to the front of the van.

Viktor edged closer to Yuuri, a very alarmed expression on his face. His eyes darted all over Yuuri, lingering on the complicated straps that held him down. Viktor's eyes widened when they heard a sudden scuffle near the front of the van, and after coming to a very rapid conclusion, promptly began tearing at the Velcro straps in a flurry.

Yuuri started hyperventilating as the stars started blurring together in a jumbled mass. He could no longer make out Ursa Major.

“Viktor. Viktor what was that?”

The other two paramedics ran to the back of the van, muttering something to each other rapidly.

“I don’t know, dear.” Viktor’s voice shook. “I don’t know. But we're going to get you out of here, ok?”

A sudden shout pierced the air, followed by two thuds.

Viktor jolted, cursing under his breathe. After removing the last strap, Viktor hauled Yuuri to a sitting position. He squatted down a bit, preparing to pick Yuuri up bridal style, when Yuuri noticed a slight movement by the corner of the van.

“Viktor!”

Viktor jumped and started to turn around, but it was too late.

The assailant lurched, grasping Viktor in a choke hold from behind. Viktor’s eyes bugged as he let out a loud gasp. He grunted, attempting to loosen their hold by twisting and gyrating, but the attacker had a strong grip.

Yuuri sobbed desperately, furiously attempting to get his body to respond to his demands. Everything was spinning so much. His head hurt ferociously, but his heart hurt even more.

Vikor began scratching at the arms around his neck, efforts growing weaker by the second.

 “Viktor! Viktor!”

His voice didn’t even sound like his own. It was alien, filled with more grief and anguish than he ever knew it capable of.

Viktor’s movements grew more and more lethargic. Through his half gaze, he looked at Yuuri imploringly, mouth parted as little breath like sobs shuddered out of his body. A few errant tears rolled down his cheeks before his head lolled and he collapsed against the hooded figure. The attacker bent down, lowering Viktor’s prone form to the concrete.

Yuuri’s yells were indistinguishable now, coming out in short, aborted fragments.

As the figure righted itself, Yuuri’s brain froze. Where the _hell_ were the others? Surely they didn’t decide to stay in the rink. At least Yurio would have been worried enough to come outside, surely Yurio would have wanted to see him off …

“Hello son,” the figure murmured smoothly, inching towards Yuuri like a shadow.

Yuuri struggled, flinching as the attacker reached out a hand to touch his cheek.

_And oh, this wasn’t right, this felt wrong, wrong ,wrong._

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, leaning away from the hand as much as possible. This foreign hand was a far cry from Viktor’s. Rough and calloused, it caught on Yuuri’s cheek as it made its way down his face. Breathing heavily, Yuuri called out desperately. In his befuddled state, attracting as much attention as possible was his last line of defense.

The hand on his cheek stilled. Yuuri could just make out the sudden downturn to their mouth.

“We’ll work on that attitude,” they muttered, patting his cheek patronizingly.

The figure reached inside their dark robes and extracted a blunt, hard item.

Yuuri didn’t even have time to yell before the figure smacked him against the side of the head with the object. Vision fading out rapidly, the last thing he saw was the hooded figure leering above him, blocking out the last bit of light from the stars.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go.  
> This is going to be a crazy ride, so buckle your seat belts everyone. This is not going to be a cutesy story - it's going to get dark. It's going to explore a lot of psychological aspects, and as a result, will bring out dark and desperate but very human sides to many of the characters. 
> 
> But that's what's so interesting about thrillers, right? They have the capacity to highlight the deepest of human emotions that we keep so carefully buried. They give us a chance to acknowledge these emotions as very much real and a part of us, but let us experience it not outwardly, but vicariously through fiction. 
> 
> I hope with this story, I am able to achieve just that.


	2. Mournful Morning

“Have you loved someone so deep in your heart, you wanted to keep them hidden and all to yourself?”   
― **Dinesh Kumar Biran**

 

**Chapter Two: Mournful Morning**

Viktor was alone.

The darkness surrounded him like a shroud, cloaking him in an infinity that seemed everlasting. There were no sounds, no sights, no signs of life.

He wandered aimlessly in the dark, feeling an insurmountable pressure in his head. It niggled, reminding him of something he had forgotten, something he had lost.

For the life of him, though, he couldn’t recall what it was.

All he knew was that it was something he cherished dearly, unequivocally.

Viktor continued walking.

He could have been walking for seconds, days, years. Time had no meaning in a place like this.

As Viktor continued, the pressure in his head morphed slightly, and he came to a swift realization.

That’s right.

He wasn’t looking for a _something_. He was looking for a _someone_ \- a person.

_But who could it be?_

Suddenly, a presence. Viktor turned, instinctively knowing the location of the intruder even though their entrance produced no noise. There was a figure. Amorphous and shadowed, they glided closer to him, whispering words too fast for him to decipher.

Viktor paused, an instant and undeniable spark of fear crawling through his stomach, for this presence simply screamed danger, danger, danger.

It reached out a grizzled hand, robed fabric shifting to reveal an emaciated, wraith like form, yet Viktor found himself unable to move. He knew this creature was the key to the person he sought, and despite the fog surrounding his mind, this was the one thing he knew without question.

The figure paused, hand hovering just in front of his face. He tried to look into the face of the figure, hoping that it give him the answers he sought, but the hood blocked all light. It was like looking into a black hole.

The figure released a deep guttural chuckle - _and oh -_ Viktor couldn’t help but shudder. The sound was unfathomable and alien. It scratched the air like nails on chalk.

As it reached out to stroke his cheek, Viktor trembled, bracing himself. He knew the person he sought was important to him, life altering, even. He would do everything he could to find them.

The contact was like a catalyst, and abruptly, Viktor knew with a striking clarity who he was looking for.

Oh god, he knew! He knew, he knew!

Dear god, how could he have forgotten? He had to find –

“Yuuri!”

Viktor jolted awake, flinching as the streams of morning light shined weakly through a nearby window, rendering him a bit disoriented. He lifted an arm to block the light, shutting his eyes reflexively as he let out a little groan that quickly turned into a yelp.

_His neck._

God it hurt like hell. Just letting out the smallest amount of noise hurt. He fingered the skin of it lightly, jolting a bit when he noted a neck brace.

Viktor froze suddenly, an escalating fear grasping his heart as he recalled the circumstances of the injury.

“So you’re finally awake.”

He lowered his hand, focusing intently on the person near the window. Bathed in light, a soft halo surrounded the hooded figure. Viktor’s eyes zeroed in on the face, relaxing slightly when he noted a familiar face.

 “Yur-”

He hacked, unable to continue the sentence. His voice was wispy and weak and painful. There was no way Viktor could sustain any kind of conversation at this point.

He sucked in a deep breath as his coughs subsided, Yurio walking closer to his bed in an instant.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend talking right now,” Yurio murmured quietly, fidgeting a bit with his hands, “Just take a few breaths, ok?”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, managing to calm his spinning head after a few moments. Glancing down, he noted Yurio grasping his forearm, moving his hand up and down in a calming manner. Viktor took a few more shuddering breaths as he settled down.

The way Yurio was calming him…. It was just like the way Viktor always did with Yuuri.

Yuuri.

 _Christ_.

Viktor’s eyes widened, breath picking up again despite Yurio’s best efforts. He heard a rapid beeping sound in the background, seemingly increasing in pace with his panic.

Yurio’s hand froze as he met Viktor’s eyes. His indifferent expression - which had actually been hanging by a thread, Viktor now realized - crumpled into one of anguish.

“Viktor! Viktor, ok. Just take deep breaths with me again,” he tried helplessly, appearing like he needed soothing himself.

“Wher-”

Viktor leaned to the side, hacking. He didn’t care though, he had to get this out. He tried again.

“Where’s Yuuri?” he rasped, fighting through the lick of pain that spiked through his vocal cords.

Yurio grew quiet and still. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was steeling himself for what he was going to say next, Viktor noted.

Oh.

Oh god.

Yurio opened his eyes, expression looking rather blank. “We don’t know where Yuuri is, Viktor.”

Viktor gasped sharply, searching Yurio’s face for more information. Surely there would be more. That couldn’t be all that they knew about the situation, surely –

“He’s gone, Viktor.”

“Wha...What?” Viktor breathed.

Yurio grabbed his shoulder, pulling him into an abrupt hug.

 _Oh_.

Viktor could count on one hand the number of times Yurio had willingly initiated a hug with him. With that realization, he collapsed into his embrace as he scrunched his eyes tightly, now knowing definitively that Yurio was being serious.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, he’d wake up somewhere else, and this would all be just a bad dream. He’d open his eyes to find Yuuri smiling down at him, sunlight streaming through the window of their bedroom. Yuuri would snuggle up to Viktor, lay his head down on his chest and give a little sigh, and everything would be right with the world.

Viktor opened his eyes, not even bothering to wipe the pearl like tears that now streamed down his cheeks.

No. Everything was not right with the world. Everything was wrong, so wrong.

Yurio tightened his arms around Viktor, and at that moment, it was the only thing keeping Viktor sane.

Yurio took a deep breath. “The police are looking into his abduction.”

Abduction.

Someone stole Yuuri from Viktor. Stole his happiness, his love, his very life.

An undeniable anger swept through him.

How dare they. _How dare they._

“It all happened so fast,” Yurio whispered, “One moment you and Yuuri left to load up in the ambulance, and then the next all of us were distracted by the sound of a bomb going off near the locker rooms.”

Yurio leaned out of the hug to consider Viktor, though he kept his hands on his shoulders.

“It turned out to just be one of those dumb homemade aluminum bombs that kids make,” he sighed angrily, “We thought it was just someone playing a prank, but now with the kidnapping to consider, there’s no way that it wasn’t planned.”

Viktor’s breath hitched. Yurio’s voice hardened as his hands began to shake.

“The kidnapper wanted us there - He wanted us distracted.”

A foreign feeling settled upon Viktor. Foreign because he had never felt this level of hatred before. It curled, twined, festered in his stomach like a tumor. When he found the kidnapper and recovered Yuuri – and it was _when_ not _if_ , because Viktor wouldn’t even consider the alternative – he would personally make them feel the pain he was going through right now.

Yurio lowered his hands from Viktor’s shoulders abruptly, a blank look on his face as he considered Viktor.  

Ah, he must have quite the expression on his face right now. Swallowing his anger for the moment, he tried to make it more acceptable for public.

“By the time we made our way outside it was too late. Everyone was unconscious and Yuuri … Yuuri was just gone,” he muttered, hollowly.

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, heart shattering. He remembered with a painful accuracy the distressed sounds Yuuri had made right before he passed out. They were agonizing. Harrowing. Viktor didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget them.

They would play in his head like a repeat, he knew. An endless repeat of his inability to protect him.

The thought of his Yuuri, scared and alone and with a crazed criminal was too much for him to take. He started shaking, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. His brief anger, while genuine and very real, only masked the deep sorrow brimming beneath the surface. It bubbled up now, pouring out of him like a fountain.

Yurio startled. He appeared rather hesitant at first, but after apparent internal deliberation, he pulled Viktor forward again and let him rest his head on his shoulders. Viktor shuddered and stayed like that for an indefinite amount of time, even as the nurses came in to check on him, even when police came in to ask him questions, and even when the angle of the sunlight moved several feet.

Viktor remained in Yurio’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was alone.

Everything was dark, his head hurt, and he was so, so confused. His awareness was sludge like, drifting in and out as he desperately tried to process what was going on. Distorted sights and sounds swirled like a whirlwind in his mind. Reality was frightening and altered in this state.

He tried his best to focus on something, anything.

And there!

Yuuri could just make out a voice that sifted through the chaos. It filtered in occasionally, speaking garbled words that he could not catch. With the voice came occasional touches, mostly centering on his head. He tried to open his eyes when the voice came by, but his vision was bleary and unfocused. And painful.

_It was so painful._

Closing his eyes brought some modem of relief to the excruciating pain in his head, so he eventually gave up and just decided to wait out the disorientation.

The turbulence lessened after a while. Yuuri began to gain back some of his senses. He could feel a scratchy fabric beneath his palms, hear the soft creak of a wooden floor, smell a distinctly musty odor.

When suddenly, light.

That was the first thing Yuuri comprehended when he awoke.

The next was the excruciating throbbing in his head. He groaned, for it felt as if a spike was being driven through his temples. Reflexively, he tried to bring his hands to his head to temper the pain, but something pulled taught on his wrists, preventing him from doing so.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his eyes fully.

It was a bit dim in the room, the only light coming from the window to his left. The weak quality of the light indicated that it was late afternoon, just on the cusp of dusk. He laid in a small single sized bed. The room itself was decently sized. Yellowed posters peppered the walls. A few toys were scattered haphazardly in one corner. An old TV that looked particularly outdated sat just opposite Yuuri on a dresser. 

It was a relatively nice room, from what Yuuri could tell without his glasses.

Glancing down, Yuuri realized with a growing horror that his clothes had been changed. The loose T-shirt and sweatpants had a heavy, stale smell to them. They were stiff, as if they hadn’t been used in a long time. He felt a rising nausea at the thought of the attacker changing his clothes while he was unconscious. 

He started panting, rapidly dissolving into a panic attack as he heedlessly tugged against the constraints on his wrists, hoping for some leeway.

He was here.

Alone.

In a criminal’s house tied to a freaking bed.

His head hurt horribly, he had no clue where he was, and he was terrified out of his mind.

He whimpered as another wave of pain laced through his head. This entire situation seemed hopeless, like something out of a nightmare. What in the world did the kidnapper want with him? He was just Yuuri Katsuki, for God’s sake. There wasn’t anything particularly special about him. Why did the kidnapper single him out, of all people? He wasn’t even that famous, not like Viktor.

Oh Viktor.

Yuuri’s heart lurched. Was he even ok? He had to be.

 _He had to be_.

He was just knocked out. He’d be ok surely…

His spiraling thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he heard a sudden creak just outside the door. He stiffened, holding his breath involuntarily.

Maybe if they thought he was still unconscious, they wouldn’t come in, he thought desperately. Then he could have more time to think - More time to come up with some sort of plan.

He quivered slightly, small snivels coming out despite his efforts.

The floor creaked again. The door handle, ornate and round, jolted, turning jarringly until the hinge keeping the door sealed was retracted into the door’s locking mechanism.

_Oh God. This couldn’t be real._

The door creaked open an inch, then stopped. Yuuri could hear heavy breaths on the other side. A pair of thin lips lodged themselves between the space left by the opening. The hallway was dark, but Yuuri could just make out a pair of hollow, beady eyes fixated on him.

_This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream, please let it be a dream!_

Yuuri was a panting, shriveling mess at this point, waves upon waves of raw terror flooding his mind.

He was quite familiar with the feelings of anxiety. It was something he battled every day of his life. But here, now, tied down and helpless, he had never felt more terrified in his life.

The lips unturned into a horrible smirk.

“I can hear you, Hoshito,” they murmured evenly.

_Hoshito?_

 “I know you’re awake,” they continued, parting the door a bit more, “You should really know by now that mother doesn’t like these little games you play.”

The door opened swiftly, the kidnapper gliding into the room like a whisper, each step drawing them closer to the weak stream of light coming from the window.

“Wha – what do you want from me?” Yuuri whispered, clenching his tied hands into fists.

The person stopped just before the light hit their face. Yuuri scanned up and down their form. They were tall and thin, body covered by a loose dark shawl. They cocked their head as they considered Yuuri, wiry, black hair spilling into the light.

“I want what I’ve always wanted from you, Hoshito,” they crooned, stepping completely into the light now.

_Oh. Oh my._

The face was gaunt, hollow, and haggard. It was unmistakably the face of a woman, but it certainly lacked all the softness and warmth that Yuuri associated with all the women in his life. Her smile stretched horribly across her face as she eyeballed him.

“You’ve been a naughty little boy, refusing to even visit your dear mother all these years you’ve been gone.”

Yuuri felt a chill settle over him. What the fuck.

_What the fuck._

This woman was deranged, delusional. She apparently had the notion that Yuuri was her _son_.

She drew closer and sat on the edge of the bed right beside Yuuri, the musty smell of mothballs wafting with her arrival. She placed a thick wooden serving tray next to her before reaching out a long, knobby hand and touching his cheek, dragging the finger down slowly, methodically.

Yuuri flinched, closing his eyes as he turned away.

“You know what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Her hand stilled. Her voice lowered an octave.

“I want your obedience.”

The pronouncement practically echoed in the small room. Yuuri squeezed his eyes tighter, feeling like bugs were crawling on his skin where she touched him. He took a shaky breath, forced himself to open his eyes. He looked at her pleadingly, imploringly.

“I-I’m not who you think I am,” he stuttered, barely holding back sobs, “I’m not Hoshito. You’ve – you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not your son.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but notice the rapidly souring expression on her face, but forced himself to plow on.

“Look, you have to let me go!” he sobbed, while she regarded him coolly. “I have friends - family - who are going to come looking for me!”

Yuuri broke off, overcome with emotion. Tears were what he did best after all, and if this emotional display, while sincere, did nothing to sway her, Yuuri wasn’t sure how he would be able to get out of this mess.

“Please. Please just let me go.”

The silence was deafening.

Her face grew more and more sharp. Her eyes darkened.

It was like all the shadows in the room flocked to her. Unable to continue looking, Yuuri turned his head away, shaking horribly.

_Shick._

The sound of a knife scrapping against silverware startled Yuuri. Glancing up slowly, he met an alarming site.

She was casually holding a knife in Yuuri’s direction. Staring into the blade’s refection, she appeared transfixed. She slowly brought the blade up to Yuuri’s bottom lip, tracing it with the sharp edge.

“I-I…please! Please! I’m s-sorry!” he quaked, desperate to say anything, _anything_ that would pacify her. The knife stilled. She haltingly met his eyes.

Yuuri inhaled sharply, closing his eyes reflexively.

_Clunk!_

After a few terrifying moments, Yuuri’s brain caught up with his emotions to inform him that - yes - there was no pain, and no, he didn’t get stabbed.

He pried his eyes open, just to confirm it for himself. Yuuri exhaled shakily. The knife glinted in the weak light, oscillating from the force of being stabbed into the wooden serving tray.

She let him pant for a few more seconds, then grasped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes once again.

“Why must we go through this every time?” she seethed. The grip she had on his chin tightened painfully. Yuuri let out a little gasp. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: You’re not going anywhere, not now that I’ve got you home once more,” she said, eyes hardening.

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. The woman was beyond reasoning with. The best course of action for him was to acquiesce to her delusions to prevent her from taking drastic measures, he realized suddenly, eyeing the knife protruding from the serving tray.

He nodded his head in her grasp.

“Y-yes. Yes, I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I don’t know… I don’t know what came over me.”

Her dark eyes glittered, roving over Yuuri’s face like she was trying to determine the credibility of his statement. Her head tilted, letting her frizzy hair spill across her face, though she did nothing to move it out of her gaze. Black eyes peered through her hair as a lightning quick smile spread across her face.

Yuuri shuddered.

_Her mannerisms were not human._

She patted his cheek. “That’s more like it, Hoshito.”

She turned to the wooden tray and plucked the knife out of the wood’s groove. Eyeing her warily, Yuuri watched her use the knife to cut something up. She then stabbed it with a fork and turned around, offering him the food.

“It’s time for dinner. Open up.”

Yuuri considered the food cautiously. It appeared to be some sort of meat, as far as he could tell. It didn’t look particularly bad, but it did have a strong, gamey odor.

Yuuri exhaled and gingerly opened his mouth, taking his first bite.

Well, it wasn’t horrible.

He chewed it slowly, carefully. It was a bit stringy - definitely gamey - but overall not too bad. He gulped it down.

“Very good, very good,” she praised, dark eyes glinting, “Keep up the good behavior and I just might take these ropes off.”

Yuuri swallowed down another piece of meat. Oh, he’d keep up the good behavior all right. He’d play her game, do what she wanted, be her perfect son. If it meant getting out of here sooner, reunited back with Viktor, Yuuri was willing to do just about anything.

After determining that he had eaten enough, she smiled tightly and stood up in one fluid motion. Her frizzed, black hair fell over her face again as she peered at Yuuri from above.

“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” she taunted, patronizingly. Her eyes narrowed as she waited for a response.

Yuuri nodded rapidly in confirmation, eager to do anything to keep the threatening look off her face. He knew, despite her seemingly frail appearance, that she was strong.

And calculating, very calculating. 

She managed to take down not only Viktor and the paramedics, but orchestrate an elaborate plan to capture him in the first place.

A grin stretched across her face as she turned around, slinking towards the door.

Oh yes. Yuuri would have to be very, very careful with how he went about this.

She paused at the exit and angled her head in Yuuri’s direction, peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ll be back soon, my dear,” she crooned, “and then we can see about getting you out of those ropes.”

She closed the door behind her, locking Yuuri back inside his prison.

Silence settled over the room as her creaking footstep grew fainter, and with only his thoughts, the quiet and isolation was the loudest scream.

His face crumpled, noiseless heaves racking through his body.

It was silent. It was dark.

And Yuuri was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold, here I am getting the chapter out two days early.  
> (I really should have known by now that this fandom has swallowed me completely and that I have no life hahahaah....)
> 
> *Ahem*
> 
> Well that was super intense, right? It took me a while to write that cause I had to take breaks from the angst.
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you thought of the latest chapter! And as always, thanks for reading!


	3. Buried Past

She preferred her other mother to have a location: if she were nowhere, then she could be anywhere. And, after all, it is always easier to be afraid of something you cannot see.”   
―  **Neil Gaiman** ,  **Coraline**

**Chapter Three: Buried Past**

Alexei upended his mug, slurping down the last few trickles of coffee. He needed all the artificial energy it could provide, because Alexei was nothing if not thorough when it came to his detective cases.

He flipped through the file for the hundredth time that night, halfway hoping some wayward detail would jump out at him, giving him a critical clue to proceed with the case.

After twenty minutes of relentless flipping, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed the file resolutely.

Alexei stared blearily at the front page. KATSUKI KIDNAPPING CASE was stenciled in bold letters at the top, a constant reminder of what was at stake. His eyes narrowed, lingering on the word kidnapping.

His glanced down at the provided photo of Katsuki. With slightly rounded cheeks and large eyes magnified by glasses, he certainly appeared younger than the proclaimed twenty four years. His dark hair was grown out a little, curling around his ears. He must have been very happy in the photo, for he was unabashedly smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Alexei shifted uncomfortably. He looked a lot like …

_No! Stop it!_

Alexei adjusted in his chair, closing his eyes as he tried to clear his head. There was no need to pursue that train of thought – not now that he had finally been promoted to head detective. There was no way he’d let his emotions spoil the years of hard work it took for him to reach this point.

Alexei opened his eyes and peered at Katsuki again, not completely able to crush down his fluttering feelings.

He sighed.

_This was going to be quite a tough first case, all right._

He shook his head, flipping through the other pages of the file. He and a few other field detectives were the first ones to respond after the police notified them of a potential kidnapping case. While the others had gone to take photos and look for evidence, Alexei had started the preliminary interview processes with the witnesses.

It certainly was an interesting case, from what he gathered. The entire kidnapping appeared to be premeditated and exacting, if the bomb going off in the locker rooms was any indication. One of the kids he interviewed was determined to get that point across to him. And what was his name?

He shuffled through a few more pages.

 _Ah, Yuri Plisetsky_.

Yes. He had been adamant about that fact, even shoving one of Katsuki’s broken skates into his hand, citing it as potential evidence.

His other interviews hadn’t been quite as fruitful.

The paramedics, for one, were all unconscious when he made it to the hospital, while the others that were involved with the bomb had no more to contribute to Plisetsky’s interview.

Viktor Nikiforov was another story.

When Alexei visited him in the hospital, he was a wreck. Not only was his ability to speak limited due to the neck injury, he also couldn’t talk about the kidnapping for long without breaking down on Plisetsky’s shoulder. It ended up being more of a second interview with Plisetsky than with Nikiforov, given that he tried to answer Nikiforov’s questions when he couldn’t speak.

Alexei realized a bit too late that it was wrong of him to confront Nikiforov just after the events of the kidnapping - especially considering that he was Katsuki’s fiancé - but Alexei was just so determined to get this case rolling as soon as possible.

He wanted to do right by the police force, do right by Katsuki.

But more than anything he wanted to do right by _him_.

A knock on the door startled him out of his musings.

He cleared his throat. “Come in,” he called.

The door swung open abruptly. Nina Barkova, one of the field agents working under him, strolled in and collapsed heavily in the chair across from his desk.

“I’m getting too old for this,” she groused.

Alexei raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re younger than me, right?”

“Yeah! And if I keep this up for much longer I’ll probably end up looking like you when I’m that age!” she quipped, stretching her back against the chair with an audible pop.

Alexei’s eye twitched. It was late, very late. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with her antics.

“Just give me your report,” he said stiffly, ignoring her amused look.

“Fine.”

She sat up, cracking her neck for good measure, and took out a few files from her bag. She started flipping through them.

“We managed to recover some of the security footage from the ice rink. We did a couple preliminary studies of the footage, and the kidnapper can be found entering into the locker rooms about fifteen minutes before the ambulance arrived.”

She held out a page of photo stills, and Alexei could just make out a dark, grainy person entering and exiting the locker rooms. He squinted.

“That’s not much to go on,” he muttered, “I can barely make out any details about this person from these images.”

She let out an unamused snort. “Yeah, we’re well aware of that. After zooming in all we could tell was that this person wore really dark, loose robes.”

Alexei looked at the grainy image again. The kidnapper wore a hood and what looked like a balaclava, which covered their mouth and nose. He stilled when another frame caught his attention.

A pair of dark, harrowing eyes seemed to stare right through him. The kidnapper looked directly at the camera in this frame, seemingly like a taunt.

Alexei paused. Heart rate picking up, he flipped to a later frame, finding an image of the kidnapper leaving the locker room. Again, they were staring right at the security camera.

There was no other way to interpret it - It was clearly a challenge. The kidnapper was declaring war.

 _Just try to find me_ , those eyes seemed to say. _Go on, I dare you_.

Alexei shivered.

“Barkova, I need you to obtain the security footage of any nearby streets in the area. It’s possible that we’ll be able to discover their getaway car as well as the direction they left.”

She nodded and straightened out of her slouch, pulling out a pen to jot down notes. “That’ll require a few ordinances to get the clearance on the tapes, but I’ll get on that as soon as I can.”

Alexei nodded, appeased. As much as Barkova annoyed him, he had nothing to complain about when it came to her work ethic. He had no worries that she’d get all her duties done as quickly as possible.

“One more thing, Kozar,” Barkova murmured.

She stopped writing and glanced up at Alexei through the bangs of her blonde hair.

“I just got a call from Pestov that three of the four paramedics have woken up. He’s starting interviews with them now as we speak.”

“Good.”

The paramedics and Nikiforov were the only ones to come head to head with the kidnapper. With any luck, they’d be able to get more identifying information about them.

“Nikiforov’s doctor contacted me as well. She cleared him for speech the day after tomorrow. At that point we can visit him again and see what we can gather.”

Alexei released a puff of air. “Alright, very good Barkova. You’re dismissed.”

She raised her arms in the air, releasing a few cracks as she popped her shoulders. She regarded Alexei shrewdly.

“Hey. Make sure you get some sleep, ok? I don’t need to come in here again to see you passed out on top of a mountain of paper work.”

Alexei huffed. “It was one time, ok? And I’m not even sorry about that. That all-nighter allowed me to solve the case just in time.”

Barkova smiled slightly and made her way to the door. “Whatever you say, old man!”

“I’m only – look, twenty eight isn’t old, ok?” he called after her. He sighed heavily as he heard her distant laugh carry down the hall.

Alexei got a lot of heat - some in jest like from Barkova, others in real complaint - about his promotion to head detective at such a young age.

There were plenty of other detectives that had years of experience on him, but no one could match Alexei when it came to determination and hard work. As a result, he was the one who got promoted to head detective. Also as a result, it left a lot of the older detectives quite resentful with him.

When the hidden resentments turned into snide remarks, Barkova retaliated, joking about his age in front of the older recruits as payback. With time, they eventually calmed down, but Alexei knew many of them were still quietly seething.

That didn’t stop Barkova from joking about his age, though.

He glanced at the clock.

God, it was two hours past his shift. Alexei supposed he really should follow her advice and go home, because there didn’t seem to be much more he could do until he got his interviews and video access.

Taking one last look at the smiling Katsuki, he closed the file with a decisive snap and locked it in his desk drawer.

Alexei Kozar was a determined man. He would solve this case if it was the last thing he did.

And then maybe - _just maybe_ \- he’d finally be able to let go.

 

* * *

 

 

She finally decided to let him go.

_Out of the restraints, that is._

Yuuri rubbed at his wrists, trying to soothe the slight rope burn.

He was downstairs in what he figured must be the living room, although the mounds and mounds of clutter made it hard to tell. Yuuri sat stiffly on the little space of available couch, doing his best to not disturb the junk surrounding him on all sides.

He glanced around the room, disgust curling in his stomach the longer he looked. Wallpaper peeled off the walls like flaking skin. Dark grime covered the creaky wooden floors. A musty smell pervaded the entire room like a blanket.

The house was … a wreck - which was strange considering the room Yuuri woke up in. Other than needing a serious dusting, it was quite clean. Why was it, of all places in the house, so much cleaner?

“Is there something you need?”

Yuuri jolted, startled out of his musings.

The kidnapper sat across from him, having managed to clear off another portion of a nearby chair, eyeing him beadily.

“You just seem a little uncomfortable,” she smiled, feigning concern.

Yuuri shifted agitatedly, swallowing down a sudden spike of annoyance.

Of course he was uncomfortable! He’d just been kidnapped by a crazed woman who believed that Yuuri was her long lost son! He’d like to see anyone else _not_ be uncomfortable in this situation.

Biting back his retort, he focused on one of his other pressing issues.

“Do you think –” He wavered, still not used to her penetrating gaze, “Do you think I could have my glasses? I know I had them on my face before I …” - _Before I was kidnapped_ he wanted to say, but hesitated, wisely choosing an alternative – “… before I arrived here.”

Yuuri wanted to ask for his phone, but figured that would be pushing his luck too much - better to go looking for it once he gained more of her trust.

Her face fell, voice smoothing into an icy calm. “I don’t know where you managed to acquire the pair you were wearing when you arrived. I disposed of them immediately, of course.”

Yuuri’s heart fell. How was he supposed to get out of here without being able to see?

“I have your old pair, though,” she continued, tone turning sour, “you left them here in your haste to leave last time.”

Her thin lips pursed as she regarded Yuuri. “It really was quite rude of you, Hoshito. Not even saying goodbye to your dear mother.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to do. What could he even say to that?

“O-oh, sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed as her hands clenched in her robes. Her fists shook. Overcome by emotion, she appeared ready to shout until she suddenly restrained herself, fists loosening with a thought. Yuuri flinched as a wicked smile flashed abruptly across her face.

“It’s all water under the bridge, so to speak,” she smoothed, eyes dancing.

_Oh._

Why did Yuuri feel so uneasy just now? Something about her tone of voice… it didn’t sit right with him.

She stood up quickly and began walking out of the living room.

“I’ll go get them for you.”

Yuuri exhaled shakily as he watched her leave, feeling like a heavy weight left the room with her.

It was a bit surprising that she felt comfortable enough to leave him alone. Yuuri could leave at any point, couldn’t he? He gazed at a nearby window, eyeing it shrewdly. Like the rest of the house, it looked rather beaten up. It wouldn’t take much force to break it in and escape –

Yuuri jumped as something brushed against his leg, halting his train of thought. He let out a little yelp when he glanced down, spotting a rather large rat by his feet. At the sound of his voice, the rat scurried away like a bullet, hiding in between one of the many piles of junk.

Yuuri shivered in disgust. It was one thing to see how filthy this house was, but entirely another to actually interact with the filth.

“I’m back, my dear.”

Yuuri startled, rocking a few of the precariously stacked items at the top of the pile near him. How did she manage to sneak up on him when the floors were so creaky?

She slinked into the living room, dark shawl trailing behind her like a cloak. Standing in front of Yuuri, she held out her arm and offered him the pair.

Yuuri grasped them gingerly, trying his best to not recoil from the feel of her cold, clammy hand.

He examined them. The glasses were aviators, red frames loud and bold compared to his old calming blue. He smoothed his fingers over the edges, noting a rough crack in the top left lens.

He opened them up and tried them on. Blinking rapidly, he tried his best to adjust to his new vision. Whoever owned these glasses had a similar prescription to Yuuri, luckily, because he found he could see quite well with them. Distant objects still appeared slightly blurred to him, he noted, squinting his eyes in an attempt to focus.

She stilled as she observed his expression, cocking her head to the side.

Yuuri snapped his gaze to her, recoiling a little when he stared at her for the first time with his vision restored. She looked much less grisly without the glasses on - when the soft blurred edges of his vision could buff out most of her unsightly features.

“Is something wrong?” she asked imploringly - or rather mockingly, Yuuri thought, peering into her twinkling eyes.

 “N-no, everything is fine, ma’am,” he murmured, trying to still his fluttering heart.

“Everything is fine, _mother_.”

“Wha-What?” he asked, startled by her intense expression.

“Mother,” she declared inching closer to Yuuri, “that’s how you will refer to me.”

Yuuri squirmed internally. This woman was far from motherly - far from human, if he was being honest with himself – and calling her by that name would not only be an insult to his real sweet mother, but would probably physically grate on himself every time he referred to her as that.

Her head lowered as she stared at Yuuri, growing more and more impatient as she waited for a response.

Yuuri shook himself mentally.

 _I’ll just call her that to appease her – nothing more. It won’t mean anything,_ he stubbornly told himself.

He gathered himself and spoke the damning words.

“Yes, mother.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as a blissful smile stretched across her face.

“That’s a good boy, Hoshito. Very good.” She opened her eyes again. “Usually it takes a lot more convincing from you to start calling me that.” She paused, leaning forward to grasp Yuuri’s shoulders.

He tried his best not to flinch.

“It looks like you’re learning.”

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

She gave him a simpering smile, squeezing his shoulders just tight enough to cause pain. Yuuri gasped softly.

Her head lowered, eyeing him with a sudden intensity.

“Words are petty things, aren’t they dear?” Her fingers started inching back and forth across his back. “One can say something with such conviction, such certainty, yet think thoughts that completely contradict what they spoke.”

 _Oh God_.

She knew he was just cooperating to stay alive. _She knew_.

“I get the sense that you don’t acknowledge me as your mother yet, despite your pretty words.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. He couldn’t help the sudden trembling that took over his body.

“I-I… that’s not – ”

“Shhh, Hoshito.” She held up a finger to his bottom lip. “It’s fine. For now, at least,” she murmured enticingly, “As long as we’re both on the same page.”

 She stood up to her full height and grabbed his chin again, hand shaking with fervor. The tremors in her grip transmitted through Yuuri’s face, and at that point, he couldn’t differentiate his own trembling from her own. “After all, getting your true obedience later will be so much more rewarding than the false narrative you’re spewing right now.”

Yuuri gulped, giving her and his surroundings a cursory glance. Despite his own strength, honed by years of intense training, he was in no position to attack her. His head still throbbed horribly, his vision was blurred not just from his new glasses, but from the aftereffects of the concussion, and he was in her home surrounded by mounds of junk – junk that could contain a whole host of unknown horrors.

Her eyes flashed knowingly as she watched him look around, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“And don’t think I won’t get it, Hoshito,” she paused, voice lowering, “I always, _always_ do … in the end.”

Her smile turned mocking. She released her grasp, stepping back a few paces. Yuuri worked his jaw. It smarted – he’d probably have a few bruises on it.

“I want to show you something.” She turned around abruptly, ragged robes twirling behind her.

“Come,” she called.

Yuuri scrambled off of the couch, doing his best to follow her down the creaking hallway. He groaned softly. Every time he tried to focus through his bleary vison, he felt a bit queasy. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stumble along, doggedly determined to keep her appeased until he came up with a plan.

“Here we are.”

She halted, staring blankly out the window. Yuuri blinked quickly, trying to adjust to the weak light coming through the windows.

They were standing in front of a door – the front door.

She turned slightly, eyeing Yuuri out of the corner of her eye.

“Go on. Open the door, dear. Leave, if you want.” She cocked her head, one corner of her mouth upturned. “I won’t stop you.”

Yuuri paused, brow furrowing. He had no idea what she was playing at other than this being some sort of test, because there was no way she’d willingly let him go at this point.

He shuffled forward a little, faltering when her gaze turned penetrating.

“Go on,” she repeated, gesturing toward the door.

Yuuri hesitated for a moment, glancing between her and the door in a quick succession. He swallowed. Grabbing the ornate handle, he opened the door.

A rush of icy air burst past Yuuri. Shivering, Yuuri toed his way out onto the porch and looked around. It was late evening, but there was still a tiny bit of light shining over the distant horizon.

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered, getting a bearing of his surroundings. He could see for miles from this vantage point, as the house appeared to be at the peak of a small hill.

He felt his stomach swoop horribly.

There was… there was nothing nearby.

No other houses, no winding roads, no people to speak of - just blankets of snow and a densely packed forest, as far as his eyes could see.

Yuuri felt of rising panic grip his heart. There was no way – _no way_ – that he could try to make a run for it. Not in the middle of a Russian winter, not when there was absolutely no one else nearby. Choosing to leave would be akin to choosing death.

His breath puffed out in front of him, mist rising into the air lazily. It followed a meandering path, dissolving in the air like a whisper. Yuuri felt tears prickle his eyes as he followed its path up, pausing on the night sky above.

It was a cloudy night. The last few rays of sun shone weakly against the clouds, illuminating them in a washed out, gray color.

He couldn’t make out any stars.

A hand clasped his shoulder. In his numb state, he didn’t even flinch.

“Not leaving then, hmm?”

Yuuri closed his eyes. “No, mother.”

Her grip tightened possessively for a moment. Letting out a pleased hum, she turned around and glided back into the house, not even bothering to see if he’d follow.

No. Yuuri wasn’t leaving. Not yet, at least. He’d bide his time, gain her trust, and find a way to escape. He told this to himself determinedly, unwaveringly, desperate to quiet the growing panic in his chest.

Yuuri repeated this mantra, staying out in the cold until his fingers turned numb, until his tears dried out, until the last rays of light sunk beyond the horizon, leaving him in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so the story should really start picking up now. The chapter was a bit less angsty, I know, but I can promise that this was just a little calm before the storm coming soon.
> 
> As far as the OCs go, I usually don't like to introduce them in a fan fic, but in the case of this story, it really was necessary to have a few POVs from the detectives - You'll see why! There won't be too many, I promise, because the majority of the story will be from Yuuri and Viktor's POV. 
> 
> Also, I want to give a big shout out to everyone who has given such super nice reviews! They really motivate me so much, like you have no idea!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought of the latest chapter!


	4. Rising Forces

“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”   
―  **Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles**

**Chapter Four: The Gathering of the Light**

Viktor winced, pressing himself further into the pillow as streams of light edged their way across his eyelids. It must be early morning, he thought, for the angle of light to be striking his face. He groaned groggily. He must have forgotten to close the curtains again before going to sleep - He always liked to spread them open first thing in the morning to force Yuuri awake, because as Yuuri reminded Viktor constantly, he was not a morning person and needed all the help he could get to wake up for early training sessions.

“Yuuri,” he mumbled into the pillow, voice sounding more like an unintelligible grumble.

No response.

“Yuu-ri,” he called again, dragging his name out in his best petulant tone.

He began pawing on the other side of the bed in earnest, because if Viktor was going to be woken up prematurely, then so help him Yuuri would too.

Instead of hitting a warm, solid mass, Viktor’s hand clutched an empty Yuuri-less side of the bed. He cracked his eyes open to confirm it.

Yuuri wasn’t there.

For one second he had a moment of confusion, a moment of blissful ignorance.

And then reality returned with a vengeful force.

_Yuuri._

Yuuri was gone. Taken from him without warning. Stripped from his life.

Viktor shuddered, letting out another, albeit sadder, call for Yuuri, desperately wishing that this was all a dream. Viktor rolled over to Yuuri’s side of the bed and planted his head face down in his pillow. He inhaled slowly, letting Yuuri’s heady scent wash over him.

Even after being gone for over three days, it still smelled heavily of him - It was like he never left.

But oh, he had left. In just a matter of a few harrowing minutes, Yuuri had been removed from Viktor’s life.

And he took so much of Viktor with him. So much.

Viktor released shuddering breaths into the pillow, body deflating like a popped balloon. He missed him terribly, absolutely. It was a soul-crushing kind of pain that Viktor had never felt the likes of in his entire life.

How would he be able to go on living with this kind of pain? It didn’t even seem physically possible to Viktor. How did people do it? Keep on living when their reason for living was gone?

Viktor rolled his head to the side, now needing to take large gulps of air to accommodate the burning in his lungs.

As he stared vacantly at the wall, it took him several seconds to even notice his phone buzzing incessantly.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

He sighed, trying to steel himself for a conversation. It could very well be Detective Kozar calling. After all, they were meeting up later on today to discuss the case. It was entirely possible that he couldn’t make it and was calling to cancel.

Woodenly, he shoved his feelings down, feeling a bit hollow as he did so, for he hadn’t needed to do this in so long… not since he met Yuuri.

He grasped the phone and looked at the screen, already plastering a more acceptable look on his face.

Ah. It was Yakov.

His face fell. What could he want? Surely he didn’t expect Viktor to go back to skating just yet.

“Hello?” he spoke quietly.

Viktor could hear a soft intake on the line and a pause. Ah, maybe he hadn’t forced down his sadness as much as he thought?

“Vitya,” he murmured quietly, “I … I just wanted to check in and make sure you were awake for today’s interview … and to make sure you were ok.”

The last part was spoken quietly. Viktor could tell he was rather uncomfortable.

Viktor released a puff of air.

The phone’s static buzzed for a few moments before he responded.

“I’m as well as can be expected.” There was no point in sugarcoating it. Yakov, despite his usual gruffness, knew Viktor better than just about anyone. He’d be able to see through any ruse in an instant.

Yakov sighed as well. “That’s what I thought.” He paused for a moment and sucked in a few sharp breaths, like he thinking heavily about what he wanted to say next.

“Vitya… you know if you ever need to talk…” he trailed off hesitantly, but Viktor could fill in the gaps. His chest niggled a bit. Yakov had never been this delicate with him before. He clenched the comforter in a tight clasp.

“Thank you, Yakov. I’ll … I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yakov huffed. “It doesn’t have to be me, Vitya, but at least make sure you talk to someone,” he gruffed.

Viktor sniffed.

“Okay.”

“Well, okay then,” he muttered, sounding mollified, “Now, are you up and ready for your interview?” Yakov’s voice returned to its usual tone, picking up volume now that he had gotten through the sentimental part of his call.

Viktor felt an unwilling smile twitch the corners of his mouth. Yakov was never comfortable dealing with emotional situations, yet they never stopped him from making sure his skaters were ok.

Viktor’s cheeks froze. He hadn’t smiled since last seeing Yuuri, about three days ago. His face fell suddenly. Why should he be allowed to feel, if even remotely, happy, when his dear Yuuri was going through god knows what?

“I’m getting up now,” he answered a little too late, snapping back into reality.

Yakov grumbled on the other line. “You only have forty minutes, Vitya. Don’t be late.”

Viktor tugged on pants hurriedly, assuring Yakov in the process. “You know me, Yakov! I once woke up ten minutes before my free skate and still managed to get a personal best. I’ll be fine!” Viktor let a false cheeriness infect his voice, hoping to appease the grumpy man.

“Oh, yes. I remember that quite well,” he grumbled, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

Viktor rushed down the stairs, digging around for some leftovers that he could scarf down. His heart panged when he noticed some of the meals Yuuri had set aside just for him. Grabbing it tenderly, he held it to his chest, trying to hold back his returned sorrow.

As good as Yakov’s intentions were, Viktor really didn’t feel like talking anymore. He cleared his throat.

“Anyways Yakov, thanks for calling, but I need to get going so that I’m not late,” he said hurriedly.

Yakov sighed.

It seemed that he was doing that a lot during this conversation.

“All right, Vitya. But, don’t forget what I said, okay?”

Viktor closed his eyes, clutching the leftovers tightly against his chest.

“Y-yes. Yes, I won’t.”

“Good,” he huffed. And then, “Goodbye Vitya.”

“Goodbye.”

Viktor ended the call, setting the phone down on the counter. He released his clutch on the leftovers and stared at them forlornly. Who knew when he’d be able to have Yuuri’s cooking again? He’d need to treasure this until he returned. There was no way he could eat it.

Exhaling dejectedly, Viktor placed the food back in the fridge, resigning himself to going back to his pre-Yuuri eating habits, which included a lot of take out and packaged foods, because despite what everyone believed, Viktor _was_ aware that he couldn't cook well. 

Picking something up along the way would be his best bet. 

 

* * *

 

Viktor entered the police station hesitantly. Wrapped up tightly in Yuuri’s favorite dark blue pea coat and scarf, Viktor felt a bit more secure enveloped by his scent.

Once he met with the receptionist, he was directed deep into the station. The receptionist led him up to a door with the name Alexei Kozar, HEAD DETECTIVE plastered on the front.

Viktor took a few deep breaths before knocking quietly on the door.

“Come in,” a deep voice answered.

Viktor grasped the doorknob and shuffled in, taking a good look at Kozar over Yuuri’s scarf. He hadn’t really seen what the man looked like the first time they met. Viktor had been hysterical in the hospital, vision blurred by tears that seemed to never stop flowing. Seeing him now, Viktor could finally asses the detective.

Kozar was a bulky man – not fat, but rather large and muscular, which made the suit he wore seem rather constraining and uncomfortable. He had wispy brown hair which, Viktor noted with a sympathetic pang for his own hair, appeared to be receding at the top a little. His brown eyes crinkled when Viktor walked in, giving him a polite smile and nod.

“Mr. Nikiforov, welcome. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Viktor walked over and sat down stiffly on the edge of the chair, not quite able to relax when their last meeting kept turning itself over in his head.

Kozar pulled out a file and a recording device. “Now, before we start I’ll need to get your signature of approval to allow the interview to be recorded.” He held out a pen and a clipboard to Viktor. “It’s nothing serious, just standard procedure. These recordings are never used outside of the police department, so I can assure you that your confidentiality is secure.”

Viktor signed the paper before Kozar even finished talking, handing it over to him with a flourish. He wanted to start the process right away.

“Please, detective, let’s just get this started.”

It probably was a bit rude to cut him off in the middle of his talk, but Viktor was beyond being polite at this moment.

Kozar’s expression shifted a little as he regarded Viktor. He wore a strange expression that Viktor had trouble identifying.

“All right, then,” he said brusquely, clearing his throat, “What can you tell me about the kidnapper Mr. Nikiforov? Any details, however small, could be useful. Don’t leave anything out.”

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, trying to place himself back in those last frightening moments.

With his eyes shut, he began to talk, recounting the gnarled, bumpy hands, the frizzy black hair that Viktor perceived out of the corner of his eye, even the sound of their deep pants as they struggled to contain him.

Viktor heard Kozar scribbling as he talked, but that did nothing to distract him from the icy chill surrounding him as he recalled the attack. Now that he thought about it, his description of that kidnapper was eerily like the hooded figure that had been haunting Viktor in his dreams night after night.

Even in his sleep, it seemed, he couldn’t get away from their hold.

Viktor cracked his eyes open, needing to see Kozar’s face when he told him his last bit of information.

“I have one more thing to tell you, detective. It’s something that I haven’t told anyone yet… probably because I didn’t want to think about what it meant if it was true.”

Kozar stilled and looked up from his notes, regarding Viktor warily.

Viktor took a shaky breath. “When the attacker lowered me to the ground, it took me a few seconds to go unconscious,” he murmured. Kozar shifted forward, an eager look in his eyes.

“I heard the kidnapper say something to Yuuri right before I passed out.”

Viktor shifted uncomfortably, hands clenching the arms of the chair. “The voice was deep, but it definitely sounded like a woman’s voice.”

Kozar’s eyes flashed, scribbling something down in his notes.

“Well? What did she say?” he asked, a slight manic look in his eyes.

“Just two words.”

“What were they?” Kozar asked, leaning forward.

Viktor met Kozar’s eyes, feeling more hollow and more lost than ever.

“Hello son.”

A silence filled the room. It wasn’t a quiet silence either. It was one of those loud silences that were deafening in their absence of noise.

Kozar’s eyes widened, almost comically, in the silence that followed. He wasn’t even writing in his notes. Instead, he was completely frozen, mouth agape. Viktor frowned a bit. He knew it was a very creepy pronouncement, but surely it wasn’t out of the realm of strange things that Kozar had encountered through his job. Did he know something Viktor didn’t? Make a connection?

 _Viktor had to know_.

After a couple of seconds, Kozar jolted, seemingly gathering himself as he returned to taking notes.

“I see,” he spoke, although Viktor could detect a minute shaking in his voice underneath his forced calm.

Viktor’s eyes flashed. Oh no, he wasn’t going to pretend like nothing happened just now.

“Detective Kozar, was that a major clue for you? Please, if you suspect anything, let me know,” he implored desperately, trying to keep his rising eagerness subdued.

Kozar stopped writing and clutched the pen tightly. He continued to stare down at his notes.

Viktor rose out of his chair and kneeled in front of the man’s desk, not even above begging at this point.

“Please. You have to understand. If you know anything - _anything at all_ \- please tell me,” he rasped, forgoing all dignity as he got on his knees.

Kozar’s eyebrows rose steadily as Viktor continued. He watched Viktor warily, a guarded expression on his face. He parted his mouth as he began to say something.

Viktor hurried, sensing an imminent rejection.

“Please don’t leave me in the dark! It’s hard enough having the most important person in my life taken from me,” he murmured as he wiped a few angry tears away, “Please, please let me know what is happening!” he cried, staring imploringly at the detective.

Kozar paused, mouth slowly closing as he regarded Viktor. His eyes shut for a few moments as he released a slow breath. Viktor twitched as the silence stretched on.

This was a crucial moment. He wanted to be involved in the case with Kozar’s permission. If Kozar said no, it would certainly make it a lot more difficult for Viktor to find Yuuri.

Kozar kept his eyes closed, and Viktor tried again, seeking a more practical angle.

He inhaled shakily. “I know my fiancé better than just about anyone. On top of that, I’m famous, so I have a lot of contacts both nationally and internationally.” Kozar cracked his eyes open as he spoke, assessing. Viktor perked up, speaking a bit quicker as Kozar’s face grew more interested.

“If any clues come up, you can bet I’d be one of the best people to consult with in regards to Yuuri,” he implored, nearly stumbling over his words in his haste. “I can also use my influence to help with international matters, if that helps.”

Kozar rose from his chair as Viktor babbled, giving him a strange look. His eyes darted to the recording device before he cleared his throat to speak.

“I’m sorry Nikiforov. It’s against protocol to allow civilians access to police data. I can tell you about any news before it gets released to the public, but I’m unable to let you in on classified information. That’s my final answer.”

The pronouncement was like a punch to the gut. Viktor felt himself deflate. How was he supposed to help Yuuri now? He supposed he could get the information through illegal means, but now that Kozar would be on alert, that route might be impossible.

Viktor hauled himself to his feet and gave the detective a cold stare.

“You must not know the pain of losing someone so dear to you, of feeling absolutely helpless when you realize that there’s nothing you can do to find them.” His voice was flat, but the slight quivers gave away a deeper pain. “My Yuuri is gone,” he said hollowly, “And all you can think about is following protocol.”

Viktor knew that was a bit irrational to say, given that Kozar appeared engaged the entire time Viktor gave him information on the attacker, but Viktor wasn’t feeling very generous in this moment.

Kozar’s eyes narrowed as his fists clenched on the table.

“Thank you for your information, Nikiforov. I’ll call you in again if I have any more follow up questions,” he said swiftly, completely bypassing Viktor’s statement.

Viktor cursed, twirling towards the door in a flurry.

Fine. _Fine._

If the detective wasn’t going to help him, he’d find his own way to gather clues. He’d run his own private investigation, hire his own people, and by god he wouldn’t sleep until Yuuri was found. He grasped the door handle, ready to yank it open and storm down the hall until he heard his name spoken softly.

“Nikiforov, wait.”

Viktor stilled, hand still on the door knob. He waited for Kozar to continue. He heard a soft mumbling before Kozar released a sigh and spoke again.

“Ok… here’s the thing. What I’m about to offer to you, it stays between you and me, ok? I could lose my job by offering you this.”

Viktor’s heart lurched as he slowly turned around. Kozar was halfway between Viktor and the desk, clutching the recording device in his hand. Viktor glanced at it, noting that the flashing red light was off.

“What you said… It’s all true. I am a bit obsessed with doing everything by the book, following every rule. It’s what got me this far in life, after all.”

“What are you saying?” he pressed. He had a good idea of where this conversation was leading, but he needed to hear him say it to really know for sure.

Kozar’s eyes flashed. The weak light struck his face, highlighting the dark bags under his eyes. It made him look a lot older, Viktor noted.

“I…I want to work with you on this case,” he finished, looking resigned.

Viktor inhaled, unable to stop the excited little jump. He spread his arms, engulfing the man in an exuberant hug. Even though Kozar stiffened under his touch, he didn’t care, not when the man just gave Viktor a path towards finding Yuuri. Viktor continued to hug the man until he forced Viktor off of him.

“Thank you so much detective,” he said weakly, hands jittering with nerves, “and I promise I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t dream of putting your job in jeopardy, not when you’re the reason I’m one step closer to finding my fiancé.”

Kozar gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry for turning you down the first time; I had to record that exchange to cover my own back in case other agents listen to this recording.”

Ah. That made sense. No wonder this man was a detective.

Viktor relaxed, appraising Kozar with a new respect.

“Viktor. Please, call me Viktor. If we’re going to be working together, I think it’s appropriate, no?”

He held out his hand.

“Partners?”

Kozar eyed him seriously, then let out a puff of air, shaking his head slightly. “What am I getting myself into?” he muttered.

Viktor smiled woodenly. “You know, Alexei, people all across Russia would jump at the chance to get into any sort of partnership with me. You should be honored.”

Alexei stopped shaking his head at the sound of his first name. He eyebrows scrunched as his mouth upturned wryly.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Viktor, you know that right? Coming into my office and demanding a position on my team.”

Viktor smirked. “I’m a national treasure, what can I say?”

Alexei snorted. He then clasped Viktor’s hand, pumping it up and down.

“Partners.”

Viktor’s heart leapt. As far as he was concerned, this was a huge milestone. This would allow him to stay up to date on any new information regarding the case. With Alexei’s resources and experience and Viktor’s connections and knowledge, they’d find Yuuri in no time.

“I’ll call you when I have any new information,” Alexei said as he released his hand.

“Sounds good, detective.”

Viktor gave him a nod as he turned around to leave. His hand touched the knob, and for the second time, he was stopped by the sound of Alexei’s voice.

“I do.”

Viktor frowned, turning his head to peer at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?”

“I do know what it feels like,” he continued, “to have someone taken from you and feel absolutely powerless.” His voice was soft, his expression neutral, yet Viktor could tell that there was a lot of hidden pain there.

Oh. Well that just made Viktor feel like a dick.

Viktor shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking. You have to understand how desperate I am.”

“It’s ok, Viktor. And I do understand,” he assured.

Viktor nodded, realizing that whatever Alexei went through, it must be similar to the situation he was in right now **.**

“It’s also why I reacted a bit strange a few moments ago when you told me about the kidnapper's comment,” he continued, face pinching up as he spoke. “There’s probably no connection, but it just sounded eerily similar to a case that happened several years ago. I’ll keep it in the back of my mind as we proceed with this case, of course, but it was a bit shocking to be reminded of it.”

Alexei’s face grew more and more closed off after he finished. Whatever case this was, Viktor could tell that there must have been a lot of personal investment on Alexei’s part. And given his reaction, it didn’t appear that the outcome of the case was too good.

Viktor wanted to ask more, but given Alexei’s closed off demeanor, he figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to press his luck any more today.

He gave him a nod. “Thank you for telling me.”

Alexei gave a sharp nod back, cleared his throat, then told Viktor that he had some calls he needed to make.

Sensing the dismissal, Viktor murmured his thanks and left the station.

He felt more hopeful now than he had since the kidnapping. It wouldn’t be long before Yuuri was found, Viktor told himself fervently, and then the kidnapper - oh she’d get what was coming to her.

Everything would be fine, told himself, repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record, because Viktor wouldn’t accept any other alternative.

Everything. Would. Be. Fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything was not fine. It was about the farthest from fine it could be.

Phichit ripped his phone away from his ear, tired of hearing the monotone voice informing him that his call was going to voicemail for what had to be the hundredth time.

This was bad; this was really, really bad.

Phichit knew that Yuuri wasn’t the best at responding to texts or calls, but it never took him over two days to respond. Phichit’s hands shook, gripping his phone in desperation. When Phichit first got the news that Yuuri had been kidnapped, he didn’t believe it at first, didn’t want to even consider believing it. It had to be some sort of cruel, sick joke from some internet troll; Yuuri was in the spot light, after all, so it wouldn’t be crazy for random claims to be made about him from people trying to stir up trouble.

Phichit had scoffed when he saw the tweet, but when he began to see more and more news about it, he grew worried. A quick search on google popped up several sources that affirmed the crazy rumor. And these weren’t crack shot sites, like reddit or the onion. They were legit new sources.

Phichit had then called Yuuri frantically, getting his voicemail each time. The pit in his stomach only increased in magnitude each time he heard Yuuri’s soft voice greet him through the recording. At that point, Phichit tried to contact him through any means possible. Twitter, Instagram, email, you name it, Phichit tried it. And each and every time, silence met him.

Phichit sighed shakily, thumb hovering over the redial button. It couldn’t hurt to try one more time, right?

_“Hi, you’ve reached Yuuri Katsuki. I’m not here right now…”_

“Damn it!” he yelled, throwing his phone away from him. It bounced on his bed before coming to a resolute halt. Never had he felt so betrayed by it before. It usually gave him all the answers. Now it just gave him silence.

Phichit wiped his eyes restlessly. He had been crying off and on all day. He had even called Yuuri’s house phone a few hours ago – that was how desperate he was, despite the huge international fee that would get charged to his bill. Mari had picked up, and in halting English - due to both her frustration at the situation and her unfamiliarity with the language – she explained to him that yes, Yuuri was taken, and that she and her family knew no more about the situation than he did.

Phichit curled up on his bed, eyes trained to the photo on his dresser. It was a selfie of the two of them a few minutes after they had met. Phichit had been so nervous arriving to America all by himself, even if Yuuri said he couldn’t even tell a year later. When Yuuri had picked him up at the airport, though, Phichit instantly relaxed. There was just something about Yuuri, some undefinable charm, that made you feel at ease. Phichit knew he needed to document the first friend he made in America, and had convinced a hesitant Yuuri to snap a photo with him. Meeting him was one of his best memories.

Phichit’s heart ached as he stared at their soft, naive faces. They had no idea what was in store, what pain was to come. He shuddered. What if he never had the chance to make any new memories with Yuuri? What if he was never found? What if –

Buzz! Buzz!

Phichit jumped, seizing his phone as quick as possible. Maybe Yuuri was finally calling back! He’d chuckle softly at Phichit, reassure him that everything was fine; it would be just like old times.

He looked at the caller ID.

Oh! Oh, my god! Phichit nearly dropped the phone in his shock, barely managing to recover it as it tumbled out of his hands.

It actually _was_ Yuuri! Phichit scrambled as he swiped the phone, hands shaking as he held it to his face.

“Yuuri! Oh my god, are you ok?” he sobbed, holding a hand to his mouth. “Yuuri I’ve been so worried you have no idea!”

Phichit breathed heavily, straining to hear any response from him. Yuuri was usually a quite talker, especially over the phone, so this was a practice he was quite used to. The line was silent though - the only sound he could hear was static.

“Yuuri answer me! What’s going on?”

The sound shifted a bit, as if a whoosh of air suddenly passed by the phone. A chill crept up Phichit’s spine. What was going on?

Phichit inhaled sharply as he heard heavy breathing on the other line. It was deep, raspy, yet paced and methodical.

“W-who is this?” he whispered, fear mounting to unprecedented levels.

The breathing on the other line changed. It began to pick up pace. The other person must have been agitated, because Phichit could just make out the sound of faint pacing.

“Where’s Yuuri? What have you done to him!” he yelled, because there was no way this could be Yuuri. Phichit knew the sound of Yuuri’s breathe, as weird as that may sound, better than anyone other than Viktor; spending three years as roommates familiarizes you to things like that.

The pacing and panting stopped.

The line grew quiet again.

Phichit recoiled when a deep, smooth voice broke the silence.

“You’re going to stop calling this line.”

“E-excuse me?”

The voice chuckled deridingly. “You heard what I said. Stop calling this line. I have no idea who this “Yuuri” is that you speak of”

They spoke slowly, voice practically oozing with scorn, as if they figured Phichit needed it explained in simple terms. 

“The only person that lives here with me is Hoshito. You have the wrong number.”

What? No, that was definitely Yuuri’s photo that popped up on the caller ID. There was no way that it wasn’t Yuuri’s phone being used right now.

“No. No you have it wrong. This is Yuuri’s phone number. Even his voice mail says his name when you call!” he snapped, pacing now himself.

A soft cackle transmitted through the phone, sounding a bit distorted as the call began to lose connection.

“This isn’t Yuuri’s phone. It’s Hoshito’s,” they smoothed.

Phichit halted. There was that name again.

This had to be Yuuri’s kidnapper, there was no doubt in his mind. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could get more information out of them.

“Who’s Hoshito?”

Phichit strained to listen. The call’s quality was getting worse and worse. He didn’t think he had much time before it dropped.

“My son of course, although I don’t see why that’s of any concern to you.”

Phichit closed his eyes in concentration before he spoke. “Could I speak to him? You see, it’s possible your son accidentally mixed up his phone with my friend Yuuri’s. If I could talk to him, it’s possible he may remember where he last saw him.”

He spoke this carefully, deliberately, crafting every word with precision. Phichit was good at communication, but never had the stakes been higher than this.

Static buzzed through the line in response. Damn, the call must have dropped. Phichit sagged onto his bed in defeat, ready to take the phone away from his ear before the voice spoke again.

It dropped in volume and tone, a quiet yet icy anger transmitting through the line.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, dear. I’ve dealt with people like you. I know your motive.”

“And what would that be?” he questioned, recovering from his shock.

“You want what you always want – to take Hoshito away from me.”

Phichit felt an undeniable anger sweep through him now that his short-lived pretense was over. How dare this person lie to him so blatantly? And what was the deal with this Hoshito person? It was like they were obsessively paranoid about him.

 His grip on the phone shook as a snarl formed across his face.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to be brought to justice. There’s no way -”

Phichit was cut off by a low series of staticy laughs. They continued for several seconds, fading in and out with the call’s quality.

“Just try to find us this time,” they murmured.

Phichit sucked in a breath, ready to retort, but a low beep transmitted through the phone.

Oh great. The call had dropped.

Phichit exhaled angrily, trying to collect himself after whatever the hell that was. He could bet all his followers on Instagram that the kidnapper would either turn off Yuuri’s phone after that call, or simply refuse to answer it.

Calling them back was useless.

_But there was someone else he could call._

Screw the international bills, he thought decisively, thumb not hesitating for one second as he scrolled down to Viktor’s number.

He had some vital information to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry this chapter was released a bit later than expected, I've just been pretty busy recently. Between starting a new rpg, marathon-ing season 2 of voltron in one day, work, school, and TA-ing, I've had a lot on my plate. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to include a Yuuri POV, but it was getting a tad long. I promise there will be one in the next chapter, though!
> 
> As a side note, if you want to read about Yuuri and Phichit's first meeting that was mentioned, you can find it in my fic Detroit Daze. I promise I'll update it eventually :D
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and I'd love, LOVE, to know what you thought of the latest chapter. See you next time!


	5. Hanging By A Thread

 

“Innocence could be lost more than once after all.”   
―  **Selena Kitt** ,  **Confession**

 

** Chapter Five: Hanging by a Thread **

6:55 am.

The clock flashed, marching inexorability towards 7:00 am.

Yuuri eyed its progression from his bed, fixated on the almost hypnotic flash as the seconds sped by. He couldn’t help but hope - somewhat childishly - that the force of his stare would slow its march, would buy him a longer respite.

6:56 am.

But no, even with his penetrating stare, the seconds passed and the clock changed, as time is wont to do.

Yuuri gripped the edge of the stiff pillowcase as he closed his eyes, eager to ignore the clock’s progression if only for a moment.

As far as Yuuri could tell, he had been here a little over a week. During this time, he and the kidnapper had fallen into a strange yet orderly routine. Without fail, she would wake him every morning at 7:00 am on the dot. From then, they would go downstairs and Yuuri would choke down extremely stale oatmeal that he figured had to have expired years ago. The kidnapper would sit across from him each morning, sipping a cup of coffee as she scribbled away in a notebook, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face as she concentrated.

As the morning progressed, she would force Yuuri to catch up on his school work, claiming that his absence resulted in a negligence in his studies. She would hand him old, outdated study books, which were, surprisingly enough, in Japanese. Some of the workbooks had already been used, and Yuuri had noticed varying languages, either Russain, Chinese, or Korean, scribbled in each book. He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but it did make him extremely curious.

While Yuuri worked, she would go outside for an hour. Where she went, Yuuri still wasn’t sure, but he definitely relished this time, as it was one of the only times he was left alone. He figured that this hour window would be critical for many reasons, one being that it would be essential for his plan to escape.

After she returned, she would check on Yuuri’s progress in his studies, only pleased when he had finished a certain number of pages in each work book. It wasn’t hard for Yuuri to complete them – they were on topics that he had learned in middle school – but it still made his heart nearly palpitate each time she assessed his work, hard glint in her eyes only slightly diminishing when she deemed his work satisfactory.

It made him feel like he was a school boy again, in an odd way. Yuuri kept having to remind himself that he was, in fact, a grown man.

Afterwards, she would scrummage through the dingy kitchen cabinets and unearth a random canned food that they would eat for lunch. She would tell him stories about Hoshito while they ate, penetrating stare never once leaving Yuuri as she recalled event after event in his supposed past. Yuuri had learned to simply smile and occasionally murmur agreements as she talked, if only to keep her satisfied. Yuuri had found out early on that silence was not allowed.

He fingered his forearm slowly, lightly inching up and down the scabbed skin on his arm. It caught under his touch, sending sharp little pin pricks into his fingertips.

He made the mistake of not responding to one of her questions quickly enough. In Yuuri’s defense, she had been talking for hours, spewing out random stories about Hoshito’s past. After a while, Yuuri simply tuned it out. As a result, he didn’t hear her ask him a question.

Or the second time she asked it.

She had then walked up to him, floor boards creaking ominously, as she quickly unsheathed a knife from her robes and slashed him across the arm, icily telling Yuuri that his disobedience wouldn’t be tolerated.

Yuuri shivered under the covers, practically feeling the phantom pain that accompanied the slash. It wasn’t so much the pain that disturbed him, it was the implications of the act. Yuuri had no idea that she kept weapons on her at all times, and with that dark shawl that she wore, there was no telling how many she kept on her person at any given time.

After that moment, Yuuri was much more attentive and forced himself, however boring and mind numbing it was, to listen to her long monologues each day. They would continue for hours sometimes, up until she retreated into the kitchen again to make dinner, which always consisted of that strange, gamey meat that Yuuri had eaten on his first night here. After dinner, they’d play board games or put old, weathered puzzles together. Sometimes, she would retreat to a corner of the living room and sharpen knives on a steel knife sharpener. Yuuri didn’t know how many knives she owned, but it had to be a lot given that Yuuri hadn’t seen her sharpen the same knife before.

Hours would pass in this manner, with the _shick_ of her knife punctuating Yuuri’s thoughts as he dutifully put together piece after piece of the puzzle.

_Shick. Shick. Shick._

The clock flashed. In his tense state, his memory of the knives sliding against the sharpener were as much a barometer of time as the pulsating light from the clock.

6:58 am.

She would be coming to wake him any minute now. Her dark eyes and stretched smile was the first thing and the last thing he saw each day. After placing him to bed each night, she’d pat his cheek and turn out the lights, starting the same cycle over again.

This-this was his life now, he thought miserably.

No… not now _, for now_ , a voice that sounded like Viktor berated, because Yuuri _would_ get out of here. While Yuuri still thoroughly believed this, he found it harder day by day to accept.

It had been over a week, after all…

6:59 am.

Yuuri tensed as he heard the tell-tale creak of her approaching out in the hall. The floor boards groaned ominously as she approached. She stood just outside his door now, waiting.

As soon as the clock switched over to 7:00 am, not even a second passed before his door was wrenched open and the kidnapper slid into the room.

 “Time to awake,” she said, grasping the alarm clock and turning off its blaring ring. She said this every morning, without fail. Always the same three words.

Yuuri released a breath and pushed himself out of bed, lifting his arms automatically. She strode forward and grasped the edge of his night shirt, removing it before placing a new shirt on him that she had laid out the night before.

The first few mornings that Yuuri had been here, this part of the routine had shocked him. Yuuri had no trouble with people seeing him nude – his family owned an onsen - but there was something shockingly intimate about someone, other than his family or Viktor, seeing him and touching him in such a vulnerable state. Yuuri had always been a very private person, so having not only a complete stranger, but someone who wished him harm dressing him, was very very violating.

Yuuri was still supremely uncomfortable with it, but he had quickly learned to swallow any of his thoughts or outward reactions. The knife that she carried on her was constantly and inexplicably in the back of his mind now. He didn’t want to do anything to cause it to come out again.

“I have an outing planned today, Hoshito,” she murmured as she tugged new pants on him, “so you’re going to be a good little boy and be on your best behavior while I’m gone, won’t you dear?”

Yuuri swallowed down the rising bile in his throat.

“Yes mother.”

She hummed. Standing up, she clasped his arm and led him out of the room and down the creaking stair case.

“You remember what happened, Hoshito,” she mused, eyeing him from her periphery as she walked, “when I left you alone last time.”

Yuuri, of course, had no idea what she was going on about, but this was becoming common place in this household. Better to just play up to her delusions than put up a fuss.

“Yes.”

She released a hum as she led him to the decrepit kitchen table and began rummaging through the cabinets for the morning oatmeal.

“Well then, I expect that there won’t be any kind of repeat, Hoshito.” She clasped the oatmeal canister in her hands. Yuuri watched her warily. Her grip on the canister was hard, shaking.

“O-of course not,” Yuuri replied quickly. When she got into one of these moods, which was often, it was best to appease her as quickly as possible.

She turned around to regard him. The canister was distorted now, sharp edges jutting out under her white knuckled grasp.

“You know I only do this, _all of this_ ,” she said gesturing around the room, “for your safety, dear.” Her voice was shaking, her eyes frantic and bulging. Yuuri sat up a little straighter in his chair. He had never seen her so ruffled.

“It’s the only way to keep you safe from _him_.”

Despite his best efforts, Yuuri’s eyes widened at the declaration. This was the first he’d ever heard her speak about anyone other than Hoshito. Who… who could she be referring to? The police? But surely she wouldn’t refer to them solely as a collective _him_.

Yuuri scratched the edges of the worn, wooden table, unable to hide his growing curiosity. If he could just coax it out of her…

She walked forward and placed a knobby hand in his hair, carding through it in shaking motions. The deformed canister of oatmeal, all sharp edges and sharp lines, was placed in front of Yuuri on the table.

“This is the only way,” she repeated in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Yuuri stared vacantly at the oatmeal, mind detaching as she continued to touch him. While not exactly the best coping mechanism, it was what Yuuri employed every time she got close to him. It was the only way he could remove himself from the situation. Accepting the true reality of the situation, Yuuri found, was a bit too much for him to handle.

This was the best - no - the only way to deal with it. It would become far too real, too permanent, if he allowed himself to be present during these moments.

After a few seconds, she pulled away and returned to making the oatmeal. Yuuri tried to clear his mind. He’d have to be careful with how he proceeded. Obviously, this mysterious person was like a trigger to the kidnapper. He didn’t want that wild, frantic look to return, her sharp knife dancing in the background of his mind. No, he’d need to find another way… maybe prompt her for more stories about Hoshito’s childhood?

“Mother…,” he trailed off, suddenly losing confidence as she regarded him with a steely look out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes, what is it dear?”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Mother… I-I guess I’m just feeling a little reminiscent this morning.” He swallowed uncomfortably. He’d never been a strong actor. Ice skating was one thing – he never had to fake those emotions – but this was something entirely different. Something where the stakes were much, much higher than simply missing the podium or not.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned away from the pot. The rising heat framed her head, giving her a disturbing yet ethereal appearance.

“You know I don’t like to talk about the past Hoshito.” Her lips curled as her eyes darkened a few shades.

Yuuri shifted in his seat. The soft pattering of what could only be a rat - because Yuuri had been dodging them since he got here - scurried in the living room.

“Yes, yes of course!” Yuuri responded quickly.  “But mother, It-It’s been so long since I’ve been… been home,” Yuuri shuddered a bit as he spoke. It was easy to say this part. Easy, because this was exactly how he felt when he returned to Hasetsu after five long years away. It was easy to dredge up images of his family, of his beloved dog, of his quiet hometown.

“I’ve missed being home more than anything, _anything_ mother.” Tears pricked the edges of his eyes as he spoke, for while he was staring at the kidnapper, what he really saw was his family. What must they be thinking right now? They had to be worried out of their minds…thousands of miles away and unable to do anything to help. His heart wilted at the thought.

And that was just his family. Not to mention his friends, everyone he left behind at the ice skating rink, and…and Viktor. Yuuri let out a choked sob, clenching the table as traitorous tears leaked out.

She must have deemed his display genuine, for Yuuri could just make out her face softening an inestimable amount.

“Very well. I’ll tell you a story then, won’t I? It’s one of my favorites with you.”

Yuuri wiped his eyes, staring at her imploringly.

She stirred the pot of oatmeal one more time before sitting across from him at the table. She clasped her hands in front of her. Her black eyes met Yuuri’s.

“You were only three years old when this happened, back in our home in Shiiba.”

Yuuri heart clenched. Shiiba… that was in Japan, not terribly far from his own prefecture. He suspected that the kidnapper had to have some relation to Japan, give the name of her son and the Japanese workbooks she gave him, but this just confirmed it.

It was strange, then, that they always spoke in English…

“You were outside playing in the backyard. I was watching from the porch. It was a peaceful spring day. The weather was beautiful, and _he_ was nowhere in sight.”

Yuuri swallowed nervously. If he didn’t try to prod at least a little he’d never get anywhere.

“Where was he?” he asked, trying to make his tone as innocent as possible, but he suspected the slight shaking likely gave him away.

Her lips thinned. Her hands reflexively tightened in their clap on the table. The white of her knuckles were stark against her grayed skin.

“Work,” she spat, layering the word with so much tension and meaning that she made it sound like a curse word. “It was always work with that man, even on the weekends. Even when I checked his schedule to catch him in his lies.”

Her eyes were wild, crazed. Yuuri shivered. He needed to get her back to the story.

“Never mind that, mother. I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, go back to the story. We don’t have to talk about him,” he pleaded.

She released a breath and closed her eyes. “No, you’re right Hoshito. No need to go down that road. Your father doesn’t deserve any of our attention anymore.” She spoke this through gritted teeth.

A father, then.

Something must have happened, some catalyst between Hoshito, his father, and the kidnapper, that resulted in Yuuri’s current predicament. There was a missing piece here, something critical that would tie everything together. From her reactions, it almost sounded to Yuuri like an abusive relationship, of some sort. Which was strange, he thought, given that the kidnapper seemed much more likely to be the abuser rather than the one receiving the abuse.

This whole situation was a lot more complex than he thought.

She opened her eyes again. “Yes… well, where was I?” Her clasped hands eased open a bit. “Oh yes… you were playing outside, when all of the sudden you started crying. I looked up from my spot on the porch to see you pointing at a dead pigeon in the grass.”

Yuuri stared into her eyes, which were glassy and far away. She must have been seeing the scene in her mind’s eye.

“You were distraught, dear, for this had to be the first time you had ever encountered death and the meaning behind it. You kept bawling as you pointed at its corpse. I remained where I was, though, because this was a lesson you had to learn on your own.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows scrunched. He didn’t like the tone of this story or where it could be heading.

“You picked up the bird’s body, eager to make it wake up, but to no avail. After several minutes of this, you simply collapsed next to the bird and cried for hours,” he said softly, eyes gleaming as the first rays of morning light shone weakly through the kitchen windows.

“After a while, a swarm of crows came and surrounded you and the dead pigeon. They were eager to get their food, you see, but you were its protector, even in death. You refused to let it come to harm.”

She turned her head to look straight on at Yuuri now. Her gaze was piercing.

“It got late. The sun had set beyond the horizon. You were hungry, the crows were hungry, and I was disappointed. It seemed you hadn’t learned the lesson on your own, Hoshito, so I had no choice but to intervene,” she murmured smoothly, eyes roving over Yuuri’s face.

He had to admit, the story itself wasn’t exactly scary, but the way the kidnapper was looking at him, analyzing him, had him suddenly fearful.

“I had to extract you from the pigeon. You were kicking and screaming the whole time, but I was determined that you understand. As soon as we left the circle, the crows attacked, picking away bit by bit at the carcass. You were trembling, screaming, but I made you watch the whole thing, forcing you to learn the lesson.”

No, This story wasn't scary. It was disturbing. Who would do that to a child? Her eyes widened and a small smirk grazed her face as she watched his mounting discomfort.

“Life is nothing but an endless battle, an endless fight for your next breath, an endless tundra of emptiness and death, which is why to be successful in this life, you yourself have to be endless in your strength.”

Forcing a child to learn about life and death in such a harsh manner … that-that wasn’t strength, not by any means, Yuuri thought decisively. If he had been forced to learn about death that way, instead of organically and naturally overtime, he knew that moment would have scarred him.

She smiled slowly now, grin filling up her entire face. Yuuri stared, transfixed. He had never seen something more evil.

_Sssss._

The water on the stove overflowed, sizzling against the eye. The kidnapper broke eye contact with him and tended to the oatmeal, leaving Yuuri shaken, new thoughts swirling in his head like the steam from the overflowing pot.  

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later found Yuuri going through the workbooks again while she bustled about the living room, sorting knives of various sizes into a large duffel bag. This workbook, like many others, already had writing in it. The writing wasn’t Japanese though … it was undoubtedly Korean. Yuuri had enough competitions in Seoul and listened to enough K-pop with Phichit to recognize the distinctive blocky characters. The writing was shaky, and some of the pages, Yuuri noted with mounting discomfort, were crinkled and stuck together with a dark brown substance.

_Shick._

Yuuri jumped at the sound of her knives brushing against each other, causing his writing to falter as he worked through the problems. She zipped up the bag as she added her last knife.

“I’ll be back in a few hours, Hoshito,” she said, heaving the bulging duffel bag across her shoulders, “Now, I expect you to get dinner started while I’m gone.”

“You-you want me to make dinner?”

She frowned as she peered at him from the side door.

“Of course. You’ve done it before, dear, don’t you remember? The meat is downstairs. All you need to do is reset the traps before you go back upstairs.”

Yuuri set his pencil down, a bit uneasy. He thought himself to be a fairly decent cook, but this was a little unprecedented, to say the least. He didn’t even know what type of meat he would be cooking with.

“I expect the meal to be done by the time I return.” She clasped the strap of the bag tightly, pulling the ratty hood of her shawl over her head.

“Of course, mother.”

She pulled the door to and peered at him from the small gap left between the hinge and the door. Her head lowered as her eyes flashed.

“Don’t think about doing anything untoward while I’m gone. Mother always knows,” she warned cryptically.

Yuuri nodded dumbly. She gave him one last lingering look before she closed the door completely. Yuuri listened to her leave the house, digesting the last few moments. He stood up stiffly, now only feeling a small twinge in his head. The concussion and its effects had mostly left him at this point. He only had the occasional ache now. He walked across the kitchen and peered out the window.

An old rickety car pulled out from the shed nearby. It was a rust bucket, likely worn out from the harsh winter weather year after year. It trudged along, driving on the path that led into a heavily wooded forest.

Yuuri swallowed.

He was alone.

He peeled his face from the window and stood in silence. Endless possibilities lingered in front of him. She’d be gone for a few hours, but surely there was something he could do to plan an escape. He could look for his phone, maybe, but even if he did find it, it would probably be out of power at this point, he reminded himself. He could try and find her knife stash… and then what? She was obviously more skilled with knives than him. Not only did she make them, she apparently sold them for a living, if Yuuri guessed correctly.

Maybe he could just try to look around and gather clues. Try and find her hiding spots. She had keys for the car. If Yuuri could find where she hid everything, then maybe one day he could take the keys and make a run for it.

Steeling himself, he crept up the stairs, thinking that there would have to be something of interest in her room.

He walked along the narrow hallway. On the right was his room, and on the left the bathroom. A few more doors lined the hall, but Yuuri could tell, simply from the ominous feeling it emitted, that the door at the end of the hallway had to be hers.

He eased his way across the hall, heart hammering in his chest, which was ridiculous… he was all alone here. He _saw_ her leave. He took a deep breath as he grasped the door knob, ignoring the shaking in his hand.

As he opened the door, a puff of strong, stale air greeted him. Screwing his nose a bit, he inched into the room, overwhelmed by the piles of junk contained in the relatively small space. He peered around, sinking feeling growing in his chest. Sorting through all this…would take days, maybe even a whole week.

As he walked further into the room, the faint light shining through the window glinted against something metallic. Yuuri turned his gaze to the wall, stilling in shock.

Three knives were on display in a glass case. They were placed in individual holders, lined side by side horizontally. Yuuri inched forward to take a closer look. They appeared to be rather old, rust coating the two on the right. The one on the far left looked much cleaner, much newer. The light had to have caught its glint, for the other two knives had no shine.

In between the newer knife and the two old ones, though, was an empty holder that contained no knife.

Yuuri figured that whatever this was, it was definitely a collection of some sort. His gaze lingered on the empty holder. The missing knife in the set was glaringly obvious. Yuuri felt an small smile graze his face as a tiny rush of pleasure washed through him. He bet it drove the kidnapper crazy to be missing one in the set. She was the type of person that would be bothered by that sort of thing.

Yuuri turned and inspected the rest of the room. Other than the knives, there really didn’t seem to be anything of worth in here. After Yuuri gave everything a through once over, even forcing himself to search under the bed and in between the mattresses, he concluded that he would be better off looking elsewhere.

He hadn’t been in the basement yet. He’d seen her go down there many times - it was where she went to retrieve his new pair of glasses. There had to be a lot of other things down there – maybe old things of Hoshito’s. Besides, she wanted him to go down there to gather the meat anyway.

After making sure that everything looked the same as he found it, Yuuri made his way out of her room. He descended the basement steps one by one, clutching the railing tightly. He reached the bottom of the basement, relieved to find it a bit tidier than the rest of the house.

 (Which, really, wasn’t saying much, but Yuuri would take the small victories when he got them.)

A table filled with boxes caught his attention. The top one was open, and Yuuri could just make out a few articles of clothing in it. He lifted the flaps of the box and looked inside.

There really wasn’t much in there. He lifted up a sweat shirt. It was small, perhaps a couple sizes less than what Yuuri normally wore. The sweatshirt was lined in Cyrillic, though.

Yuuri squinted. Living in Saint Petersburg, one was hard pressed to never encounter the words displayed on this sweat shirt.

Санкт-Петербу́рr

 _St. Petersburg_.

Yuuri supposed it made sense to have a sweatshirt from there given that she lived in Russia, as best as he could tell, but it was a rather small size. Perhaps it was Hoshito’s when they moved here?

Yuuri sorted through the box more, bypassing the clothes, and extracted a photo at the bottom. He gazed at it, heart stilling as a cold chill swept over him. The kidnapper, albeit several years younger, stood in the photo with her wraith like arms around a young teen. Everything in his body language screamed discomfort. His shoulders were hunched and his arms were held stiffly at his side. Although the teen wore a smile in the photo, it looked pained, somewhat like the smiles Viktor gave to the crowd the year before he met Yuuri.

He exhaled sharply when he took a closer look at his glasses. They were… they were red aviators just like the ones Yuuri currently wore. They even had that little crack in the top left lens.

Yuuri fingered the edges of the photo as he stared into his dull eyes, feeling like an imposter. Wearing Hoshito’s glasses, Yuuri himself acknowledged that he looked eerily similar to him.

What…what could have happened to him?

Yuuri shook his head as dark thoughts filtered through his mind. The last thing he needed was to send himself into a panic attack.

He set the box aside and grabbed another. This one was much more dusty, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in a long time. As he looked inside, he was greeted by a similar sight. Bundles of clothes and other objects filled the box.

His fingers brushed against something sharp and hard as he searched again. He unearthed it to discover, of all things, ice skates.

As he caressed the shoes, he was suddenly filled by an inexplicable melancholy. He’d been so focused on thoughts of escape and his loved ones that he didn’t even bother to think about skating. He hadn’t even been off of the ice for two weeks, but seeing this pair now reminded him with shocking clarity just how much he missed it. The crunch of the ice under his skates, the near weightlessness as he jumped, the ecstatic smile on Viktor’s face when he aced an element of his routine… god how he missed it all.

He set the skates down and searched for anything else of note. Finding nothing, he moved on to another box. It also had a thick layer of dust coating it. Yuuri coughed a little as he brushed the dust off. Inside was more clothes, but they were much, much smaller than the clothes he found in the other two boxes. They had to be Hoshito’s when he was quite young. He pulled out a shirt and paused as he was greeted by Korean, not Russian.

What?

This didn’t make sense, unless Hoshito and the kidnapper had moved around a lot. Yuuri supposed that explanation could be true, given the multiple languages he kept seeing in his work books.

That had to be it.

It made sense that the kidnapper would want Hoshito to learn the language of the country they were living in.

He sorted through the box and encountered another photo. This photo was a newspaper clipping, old and yellowed around the edges. It was also in Korean, but there was a small photo connected to the article. A young boy, perhaps twelve years old, smiled widely in the photo as he held up a medal proudly. His glasses slipped off his face in the image, but he took no mind, too caught up in the moment.

A sharp red circle, obviously scrawled in, surrounded his smiling face. Yuuri brought the paper closer, eyes roving over the child. This-this wasn’t the same boy as the one in the earlier photo. There were several similarities, yes, like the glasses and dark hair and slim stature, but this boy had a few features that distinguished him from the other.

Yuuri frowned deeply. For all he knew, Hoshito and him could have been best friends. It would be normal to save an article when your friend achieved something.

Yuuri’s stomach lurched, unable to deny that even if this was the case, there was certainly something very strange about the situation. Why would there be boxes filled with clothes from different countries? Why would there _really_ be workbooks filled with several different languages?

Just _what_ was going on here?

A sharp squeak and metallic snap broke the silence and Yuuri jumped, letting out a small exclamation.

Heart leaping out of his chest, Yuuri cautiously moved to the other room where the sound originated, picking up a broom for defense along the way. He peered around a dusty beam. narrowing in on a small object in the middle of the room.

Oh.

It was just a rat caught in a mouse trap. Yuuri released a breath, relaxing instantly. The house was infested with rats – he should have known.

Although…

Now that he thought about it, it was a bit strange that the kidnapper, who didn’t bother with any form of cleanliness, decided to tackle this one issue.

Yuuri inched forward, grimacing as he noticed the rat’s back legs twitch reflexively. What a gruesome way to go, he thought grimly. Even in death, it’s body still seemed to be struggling.

He started to turn around, ready to return to the strange boxes, when more mouse traps caught his eye. They were lined up systematically in rows.

The placement was very deliberate.

Well, he thought slowly, it only made sense to have more than one mouse trap when the infestation was so bad but –

Yuuri frowned as a dawning realization came over him slowly. The kidnapper’s earlier words echoed in his mind like a broken record player.

_The meat is downstairs. All you need to do is reset the traps before you go back upstairs._

The meat. The traps.

Fuck.

Yuuri’s mind flat lined. The gamey, stringy meat… it had been rat this whole time. Every time he dodged a rat in the mornings, every time he saw them burrow into the piles of filth, he was simply seeing his future dinner run around.

Yuuri brought a shaking hand to his mouth, taking note of the rows and rows of dead rats in the traps. Some of them had been neglected for far too long, rotting and festering, flies lazily buzzing around.

Yuuri dry heaved.

_He had to get out of here._

He’d go crazy - absolutely crazy - if he stayed here much longer. At this rate, he honestly didn’t know how much longer he could last, isolated from civilization, ice skating, his family, Viktor…

He opened his eyes blearily, retreating a tiny bit more into himself, trying to remove himself from the situation. A dull buzz settled over his mind like a blanket, muting his surroundings. It was like he had turned down the volume on his thoughts.

He released a breath. Started picking up the rats.

It was time to make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I wanted to post this last night but I was (and still am) a bit bitter about my home team losing the super bowl.  
> *Sigh*  
> However, I present you the longest chapter yet! They really just keep getting longer and longer the more chapters I add...
> 
> From here on out, I'm going to start delving into the meat of the story and how the events will effect the characters on deep, psychological levels. 
> 
> If you want updates about the progress of the next chapter, or just want to say hi, check me out here on [tumblr.](https://katyaton.tumblr.com/) Near the end of the story (which won't be for a while, btw), I'll probably also upload my thoughts on the symbolism, metaphors, and character motivations for critical points in the story! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! <3


	6. Visceral Realizations

“A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.”   
―  **John Lennon**

**Chapter Six: Visceral Realizations**

Viktor’s eye lid twitched. He’d been staring at the same image - the same grainy, blurry image - for the better part of an hour. There had to be something, some minute clue, some little detail that he was missing. Surely there was something.

 _Surely_.

He brought the image closer to his face, trying to memorize the exact shape of the dark eyes that peered back at him. They were taunting, cruel. Exactly like the eyes he saw in his dreams every night.

A sudden buzz pierced his concentration, and Viktor couldn’t help but jump as he was violently rendered back to reality. He blinked a few times and stared blankly out the window, trying to clear the sticky, tired feeling in his eyes without success.

Oh.

It was morning.

Viktor must have pulled an all-nighter sorting through the different files Alexei had copied him.

_Apparently, time flew by when you were desperately looking for your fiancée._

Viktor sighed and brought a hand to his eyes, trying to rub the itchiness out of them. Gray spots speckled his vision, dancing in front of his eyes like the dust motes swirling lazily in the beams of morning light. 

He felt so hollow, so incomplete.

Alone.

He’d never felt this empty in his life, not even during his last year of skating before meeting Yuuri. Not even when his first boyfriend, at the age of seventeen, dumped him the morning after his first time. Not even when his father died at age twelve, leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves.

No.

This was a completely different kind of pain; it was soul deep, intertwined with his very being. Yuuri was his life, after all, and to be so suddenly ripped from him left Viktor feeling so very, very empty. A soft whine pierced the air, breaking him out of his musings, as a wet nose pressed against his hand. Viktor startled, guilt swelling within as he stared at his dog; he had nearly forgotten that Makkachin was here as well.

He gave him a few pats and grabbed his cell phone, staring blearily at the thirty or so notifications. Most of them were from Yurio. A couple were from Mila and Georgi, and one, at the very beginning, was from Yakov.

He tapped it.

 _Vitya_ , it read, _I wanted to give you a few days to accept the situation and talk it out with someone, but I think it’s time you come back to the rink_. _I expect you here tomorrow at dawn for practice._

It was sent two days ago.

Had Viktor really not checked his phone in so long?

He scrolled through a few more messages, clicking on the first one from Yurio.

_Oi! Old man, where are you?!_

Sent 08:30.

_You better show up to practice within the next few minutes or Yakov’s going to blow a gasket._

Sent 08:45.

_Seriously, it’s been over two weeks since you’ve come skate._

Sent 09:55.

The messages went on and on from yesterday early morning until late at night. Viktor clicked on the most recent one.

_Ok, that’s it. I’m coming over._

Sent 11:03.

Viktor clenched the phone in his hand. He knew he was a bit off radar right now, but did people seriously expect him to be ok? After everything that happened?

_How were they just able to blow this whole thing off?_

Viktor released a sharp breath as he tossed his phone away. He needed to get back to work. Every second he stopped was one second longer that Yuuri was separated from him. He gathered the papers on the coffee table and began sorting through them. Even though Detective Kozar and his team had already gone over these files in extensive detail, Viktor still felt obligated to look through them on principle. Other than having a second set of eyes peruse the material, it was also partly pride that drove Viktor.

(He was Yuuri’s fiancée goddamn it – he knew him better than almost anyone else – surely there would be some details that only he could pick up on.)

_Surely._

Viktor’s closed his eyes in frustration.

Surely wasn’t good enough.

He needed results - And he needed them _now_.

His phone buzzed again. Viktor cracked an eye open. Divine intervention, perhaps?

He sat up and walked a few paces to the phone. Grabbing it woodenly, it wasn’t until he read the name _Alexei Kozar_ that his heart started picking up speed for the first time in days.

He jabbed the phone and read the message in a flurry. He had to reread it a couple of times to fully comprehend everything.

_Viktor, as you know, I’ve spent the past few days tracking Yuuri’s phone after we talked to Chulanont. I’ll tell you more when we meet, but I’ve tracked it to one particular town. If you can, I’d like to go over there today to investigate. I’m leaving at 13:00. Let me know if you can come._

Viktor shook, but not from anger or frustration, oh no, it was finally, _finally_ from a different source. Joy swept through him like a tidal wave.

This was it! If they were lucky, they had a chance of finding Yuuri today! And then this nightmare - this whole devastating chapter of his life - would be over.

Viktor typed out his confirmation, backtracking several times as he misspelled words in his haste. After he finished, he clicked the phone off, gaze falling on the coat rack and Yuuri’s undeniable blue coat.

He’d be here, back in no time - It wouldn’t be long before he opened the door, cheerily greeting Viktor after a morning walk with Makkachin.

Viktor could see it now.

A series of loud bangs against the door broke his musings, and Viktor jumped, half convinced that Yuuri _actually was_ back until the door swung open and a flurry of leopard print and rage came swooping into the apartment.

“Viktor!” Yurio yelled, closing the door behind him with a bang, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”

Yurio seethed as he stared at Viktor, looking him up and down as he assessed him. “Where the _hell_ have you been the last week? We’ve all been worried sick!”

Viktor stiffened, feeling curls of resentment and anger replace his momentary joy. Here it was again. Why did everyone assume he could just bounce back from this like nothing had happened? Even Yurio, of all people…

Yurio stomped up to Viktor and tilted his head up, nose scrunching as he drew near. “And what’s wrong with you? Have you even showered since I last saw you?”

Viktor watched him blankly and said nothing.

Yurio huffed. He shoved a bag into Viktor’s chest forcefully.

“Here. I brought you some of my grandfather’s pirozhki. I figured you could use some.”

Yurio brought him food? Viktor frowned, trying to remember the last thing he ate. Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he had something… He clutched his stomach as a dull pang of hunger swept through him.

Yurio’s arm wavered as he lowered the bag. His frown grew more pronounced.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something? My grandfather put a lot of effort into these. He made up a whole new flavor and everything,” he declared stiffly.

Viktor cleared his throat sharply. “Of course, Yurio. Let’s go eat.” He turned around without waiting for a response, a little disturbed by his own voice. It clearly sounded off. Yurio would have definitely picked up on it.

He settled into the kitchen and opened the cabinets.

Huh.

There weren’t any clean dishes. Viktor spun around and peered at the overflowing sink. He didn’t recall it getting that bad… and oh! Makkachin's bowl was empty. Viktor stared at the trail of food strewn about the trashcan. Had he been...? 

Guilt curled horribly through Viktor. He had to admit that he had forgotten about his dog in the last few days, but for it to get this bad...

He heard a drawn-out sigh behind him. Yurio strode forward and grabbed a few dishes on top and began washing. Viktor watched him for a few moments, eyes widening behind his fringe. It wasn’t exactly apparent to him before someone invaded him during his grief, but it was now painfully obvious how far he’d fallen since Yuuri was gone. Viktor looked around the kitchen with new eyes, just now noticing a slightly sour smell. The kitchen sink was packed, the trash was nearly overflowing, and packs of packaged and takeout food littered the counter tops.

It wasn’t ideal by any means, but if this was the price Viktor had to pay - sacrificing just a little of his comforts to recover Yuuri as quickly as possible- Viktor would gladly pay it.

As Yurio scrubbed swiftly, Viktor strode forward mechanically and grabbed a kitchen towel, drying the steadily growing pile of clean dishes. He figured Yurio would stop as soon as he cleaned enough for the two of them to have a meal, but he just kept going, and they worked in silence together, cleaning until the last dish was clear of the sink.

“Done,” Yurio breathed, as he inspected the sink one last time for good measure. He clasped the bag of pirozhki, taking out a few and placing them on the newly washed dishes. “Now it’s time to eat.”

And so Viktor had what seemed like the first real meal in weeks. It was good, he thought, as his grandfather’s cooking always was, but something just seemed a bit off. He dropped it to his plate, head bowed.

Yurio glanced up as he lowered his third pirozhki. His eyes flicked uncertainly. For a person usually filled with confidence and energy, this new, rather timid version left an uncomfortable feeling in Viktor.

“Viktor,” he spoke quietly, hesitantly, “you need to come back to practice.”

Viktor noticeably flinched. There it was again. Why did everyone think he could just let Yuuri go and move on with his life? Why should he deserve to live life when Yuuri was being deprived of the very same thing?

“Look, if Yakov sent you here, tell him that I’m not coming back until Yuuri is found,” he ground out, peering at Yurio through his bangs.

Yurio’s lips thinned as he narrowed his eyes. “Look, Viktor… I know this is really hard on you… it’s hard on all of us –”

“Well it certainly doesn’t seem that way,” he spat out quickly, “How can all of you just go about your lives like nothing’s happened?”

Yurio’s eyes flashed. He opened his mouth, ready to spout something out before closing it suddenly. He regarded Viktor with a careful expression.

“You know it’s hard on all of us,” he repeated stiffly, mouth down turning as he spoke. “Katsu-” he faltered, trying again, “Yuuri hadn’t been skating with us long… a few weeks at most really, but I-I already got used to him being there… we all did,” he finished quietly.

A small part of Viktor softened at the omission. He knew he wasn’t the only person here who loved Yuuri. _He knew_. Yuuri was just that type of person, overflowing with soft words and a quiet charm, who wormed their way into your life without you any the wiser. It was only natural that it took so little time for the rest of the team to fall victim to him.

But.

Viktor still felt bitter. And angry. There was no way he could just sit idly by and pretend like nothing had happened. Not when his love was in danger.

“I understand, Yurio,” he muttered, staring down at his plate again, “but that doesn’t mean I can go back to my normal life – back to skating – like nothing has changed because it _has_. Everything has changed, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

A sudden bang pierced the air.

Viktor jolted, looking up to see Yurio’s fist on the table, face twisting as he sneered angrily at Viktor.

“You’re an idiot Viktor. Do you really think running yourself ragged is the best way to save him?” he snapped, “I mean _really,_ take a good look at yourself! You clearly haven’t slept well in days, your apartment is a wreck, and you’re eating nothing but crap,” he declared, leaning in further so that his face was in line with Viktor’s. “You’re clearly of no use to Yuuri in this state. It makes me wonder if you’re even trying at all or just wallowing in your misery”

That-that little bastard.

Viktor surged forward, towering over him. He had to resist the urge to grab him by his chin again, like he did just a month ago in Barcelona. Was is really only a month? It seemed like a lifetime away.

Viktor spoke deliberately, voice shaking with suppressed rage.

“Don’t ever say that to me again. I’m doing more than you know, more than you can comprehend, to save him. Don’t pretend to know what’s going on Yurio, because I’m doing everything and more to help him.” He thought of the files on his table and the recent text from Alexei with no small degree of vicious pride.

Yurio stared at him intently. A small smile, so sudden that Viktor thought he imagined it, flitted across his face before it disappeared, replaced by his usual sullen expression.

“Good,” he declared, grabbing the remaining bag of pirozhki. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing if it’s helping so much.” He walked over to the fridge and opened the door, face contorting as he peered in. He leaned in and pulled out a stack of Tupperware - Yuuri’s leftover’s - with a pinched face.

“Good lord, Viktor, why have you kept this for so long?”

Before Viktor could comprehend it, Yurio opened the lids and dumped them down the drain, face turned away as a strong, sour scent filled the kitchen.

“Yuri! No!” he screamed, launching himself at the boy roughly. He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him a bit.

“That-that was all I had left! That could be the last thing he ever makes me! And you just threw it away, Yuri, how could you do that?” He shook him a little more, voice breaking.

“Get off of me!” Yurio shouted, pushing Viktor away roughly with a slightly alarmed expression.

Viktor stilled as he processed his expression. He looked down at his shaking hands. He had been graced with a variety of expressions from Yurio throughout the years. Some were hopeful, some were filled with admiration. Most were ones of fond annoyance.

He had he seen fear directed his way.

Viktor shuddered. Dear god.

Yurio was just a child. What the hell was wrong with him? He brought a shaking hand to his mouth.

“Oh.. oh god,” he trembled, “Yurio, I’m sorry-I didn’t mean- I-I” he stuttered, unable to finish.

Yurio’s expression shifted rapidly, returning to his pervious hesitant look.

He walked forward slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, and clasped Viktor’s upper arm in a strong grip.

“It’s okay, Viktor,” he spoke deliberately, carefully, eyes never leaving his face.

“But I-”

“Stop.” He held up a hand, cutting Viktor off mid apology. He let out a shaky sigh. “We all know this is hard on you Viktor, more so than perhaps anyone, and we all understand that you need to take some time to yourself to sort this all out…”

He spoke tentatively, gauging Viktor’s expression as he continued. “But you can’t just let yourself go like this… you have to keep living your life, Viktor. You know that Yuuri would be disappointed with you right now.”

Viktor flinched. Yurio could drag Viktor all he wanted, but bringing Yuuri into the picture was a different story.

“Keep fighting for him – yes – but don’t lose yourself along the way,” Yurio insisted, grabbing his bicep with more force.

Viktor exhaled shakily, heart twisting as he noticed the first telltale signs of tears prickling in Yurio’s eyes.

“Y-Yuuri is bad enough. I can’t imagine –” Yurio cut off, breath hitching shakily, “I-I don’t want to lose you too, idiot!” He finished, punching him weakly in the arm.

Unwittingly, tears of his own started trailing down his cheeks. He knew the others missed Yuuri, but seeing the evidence in front of him – especially from Yurio, who was usually all brashness and confidence – gave him a new perspective. Guilt twisted horribly in his gut.

Viktor grabbed Yurio, overcome with emotion, and pulled the stringy teen against his chest into a fierce hug. Yurio clutched him wildly, clinging to him like an animal.

He looked around the room over Yurio’s shoulder, this time really taking note of everything. It really was a wreck, and this was just the kitchen. He'd even neglected Makkachin in his grief. _Makkachin - the dog that had been with him through so much!_

He – he probably should try to get his shit together. If nothing else, it would make him more productive in finding Yuuri. And maybe, he thought, feeling Yurio’s frantic clutch on his back, it would be alright, healthy even, to talk to others and take a break occasionally.

Yuuri was his life, yes, but in the process of his search he’d been completely neglecting everyone else.

_Maybe… maybe a short skate every once in a while wouldn’t hurt._

He backed away from the hug, keeping his hands on Yurio’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry Yurio,” he said, trying to impart as much sincerity into his voice as possible, “I-I’ve been so caught up in all of this…” His eyebrows scrunched as his voice wavered, “I guess I forgot that I’m not the only one struggling.”

Yurio sniffed loudly, breaking his watery gaze from Viktor’s as he stared at the ground. “Just make sure you’re back to practice by tomorrow, because the entirety of the skating team was prepared to break down your door today,” Yurio said tartly. His voice turned petulant. “I even had to keep Chris, of all people, from booking a flight and knocking sense into you.”

Viktor’s heart pattered against his chest happily amongst the slight guilt. He had so many people that cared for him…

_It was time he returned the favor._

He felt a small smile – the first one in weeks! – inch across his face. It felt a bit strange to be using these particular muscles again. Strange, but welcome.

“Don’t worry, Yurio! I’ll handle all of them shortly,” he reassured. Yurio looked up at him sharply, face clearing as he noted Viktor’s mood shift. Viktor’s smile turned teasing. “You’ve been a fantastic secretary in the meantime, though - I couldn’t have asked for a better one!”

Yurio scowled and pushed Viktor off him.

“Shut up, old man! I only did this to calm everyone at the rink down. It was getting insufferable listening to them.”

Viktor’s smile only grew, turning into a heart. He placed a hand against his chest mockingly.

“Oh, Yura, you wound me!”

Yurio’s scowl deepened, but Viktor thought he saw bit of relief flash across his face before disappearing behind a prickly expression. Yurio stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked out of the kitchen. He stopped in front of the door.

“I’m coming over every day until we find Yuuri. I can’t have him coming home to you practically starving. I also have to make sure you feed the mutt.”

Viktor smiled softly, gazing at his hunched back. He wouldn’t dare mention his plans with Alexei later on today. Alexei had said that the town was only a couple of hours away, but he really had no idea how long he’d be there. If he mentioned it, there was no way that Yurio wouldn’t want to come.

_He couldn’t bear to involve him too._

“Of course.”

Yurio’s shoulders relaxed at the pronouncement. He opened the door and leveled Viktor one final, significant look.

“Viktor… please make sure to talk more. I – we can’t help you if you close yourself off like this,” he urged quietly.

Viktor jolted internally. That was exactly what Yakov had said to him a few weeks ago, not in the same words, but with the same general message.

He understood what they were trying to say, he really did, but who could he talk to about this? Who would understand? Nevertheless, Viktor nodded, giving Yurio his confirmation.

Looking slightly mollified, Yurio nodded back stiffly and closed the door.

Viktor closed his eyes, hoping desperately that he’d be able to keep good on that promise.

 

* * *

 

Viktor sat across from Alexei again, having grown quite familiar with this particular setting over the past week and a half. Alexei slurped down more coffee, drinking from a ridiculously over-sized thermos. It was so big that it needed a handle on the side because it’s circumference was too large for a hand to grab.

“Just let me gather a few things here, and we can talk more in the car,” he said distractingly, gathering papers and shoving errant things into a satchel.

Viktor practically buzzed with anticipation. This was it. It had to be.

Alexei was able to track the location of Yuuri’s phone to a town called Priozersk, located about two and a half hours away from St. Petersburg. It was a lake town, from what Alexei had told him, situated right by the largest lake in Europe – Lake Ladoga.

Alexei had tried to tell Viktor that it was unlikely that they would find Yuuri, given how meticulous the kidnapper had been so far, and that at most they would only be able to find more clues, but Viktor couldn’t quite squash the small burst of hope and excitement lurking inside.

He tapped the chair’s arms restlessly; he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

The door to the office opened abruptly and Viktor glanced up. Another detective, by the looks of it, barged into the office. She was tall and lanky, Viktor noted, jacket not quite long enough to reach the ends of her arms. Her short, blonde bob scattered across her thin face, giving her an overall harried appearance.

She stopped in her tracks and eyed Viktor shrewdly.

“Barkova!” Alexei choked mid sip, eyes wide behind the enormous thermos.

Her sharp eyes shot to Alexei. “What’s Nikiforov doing here, Kozar? I thought you said you got all the information you needed from him.”

Alexei recovered quickly, slamming his thermos down before he shot Viktor a significant look.

“I wanted to do a few follow up questions with him. There were some details I neglected to ask.”

Barkova walked forward a bit, eyes scanning. Viktor tried to discretely shove his overnight bag, with little success, under his chair. The slight movement caught her attention and she frowned at his bag, likely taking note of the clothes and documents peeking out.

Viktor stood up quickly, giving her one of his best mega wat media smiles as he blocked her view. She was a tall woman, about the same height as Viktor himself, and he could lock eyes with her easily.

“It’s so nice to meet you detective! I’m so happy to meet anyone who is helping me find my dear Yuuri,” he sang, pumping her hand up and down. Her eye brows furrowed as she glanced at Alexei’s desk, noting the multiple papers strewn across.

“Kozar… you’re not doing what I think you’re doing are you?” she asked carefully, unconcerned that Viktor was still frantically pumping her hand up and down. Viktor looked at Alexei desperately.

Alexei shifted uncomfortably as she drew close to him, apparently deciding that silence was the better response. She glanced back and forth between his desk and Viktor’s bag, undoubtedly noticing a few of the same forms from the desk sticking out.

Barkova let out a long, low whistle.

“You could get fired for this, you know?”

Alexei remained quiet for a few moments before releasing a deep sigh.

“I’m well aware of that, yes,” he said brusquely.

She eyed him again, expression wavering a little as they stared at each other for several seconds. Viktor didn’t know the history between these two, but even he could tell that there was a heady significance between the look they shared.

“Where are you planning on going today? I assume you haven’t told anyone else or called for backup,” she questioned quickly, folding her arms in front of her.

Alexei’s eyes narrowed, apparently deliberating if he should give up more. He gave Viktor a resigned look before responding.

“I was able to track the GPS in Katsuki’s phone to a town about three hours outside of the city. We were planning on visiting there today.”

Barkova whipped out her phone, scrolling through a calendar.

“Well then,” she sighed, sounding rather remorseful, “I suppose you’ve left me no choice…” she trailed off, face falling as she placed her hands on her hips.

Viktor’s heart leapt. He couldn’t let her do this. He wouldn’t be able to survive if he didn’t have a direct link to the investigation. He’d go insane sitting passively by and doing nothing! There was no way he’d let her out them –

“I’ll just be coming with you then!” she declared dramatically, giving Alexei a teasing smile.

Oh.

Well Viktor supposed that was ok then.

Alexei released a long-suffering sigh, hinting at the undoubtable years of weariness that came with dealing with this woman.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” he replied defeatedly. He pinched the edge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Fine. Have it your way, Barkova, but you better be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Fantastic!” She punched the air in joy, already speeding out of the office. “I’ll meet you out by your car, then!”

She slammed the door. Silence pervaded in the room.

Viktor cleared his throat. “Well…that could have been a lot worse than we thought.”

Alexei leveled him a weary look.

“Barkova is about the only person on the team that wouldn’t have outed us… it’s actually pretty fortunate for us that it _was_ her,” he said slowly, picking up the large thermos again, “but there’s a pretty major downside too.”

Viktor frowned. “What is it?”

He brought the mug to his mouth, sounding rather resigned. “Now we’re stuck with her in a car for three hours.”

Alexei upended the thermos, guzzling down the remaining coffee. He frowned as he peered into the cup, apparently annoyed that it wasn’t a bottomless container.

“I’m going to need more coffee,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor watched the city blur by, buildings thinning out the farther they traveled. It wouldn’t be long before they reached Priozersk – a few hours at most – and then Viktor would be one step closer to finding Yuuri. If they were really lucky, a small part of him whispered, it may even be today.

“For the last time, Barkova, I’m not going to play your music. I don’t think I can handle the heavy-metal-death-screamo crap you somehow manage to find,” Alexei said wearily, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. They’d be going on like this for the better part of five minutes. Viktor had eventually looked out the window and tuned them out, too many thoughts racing through his head to keep up with them.

“Oh, come on! Now you’re just throwing out words!” Barkova parroted from the back seat, “And I’ll have you know that Nuclear Suicide won album of the year in 2012! Plenty of people enjoy them.”

Viktor’s ear twitched at the band name. It sounded a bit familiar.

Alexei scoffed. “Name me one other person – a real person, mind you - that also likes that band and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Hey Nina,” Viktor asked, looking at her through the rear-view mirror. She told him at the start of the trip to refer to her that way, especially since both she and Alexei were technically off the job while he was with them.

Her scowling face lessened slightly as she gave him her attention.

“This band, Nuclear Suicide … they wouldn’t happen to sing _Welcome to the Madness_ , would they?”

She perked up, face splitting into a wide grin. “Yes, that’s right! Are you a fan, Viktor?”

Viktor chuckled over the sound of Alexei’s grumblings.

“No, no I’m not, but my rink mate Yurio loves them! He even skated to that song for an exhibition skate.”

Nina let out a long whoop, whacking her hands against the roof of the car in her excitement.

“Ha! Take that, Alexei!” she bellowed triumphantly. She fished in her bag quickly, drawing out a CD with a flourish.

Alexei released a long groan. “I should have known…” he muttered.

She gave Viktor the CD, grinning wildly as he placed it dutifully into the radio. He wasn’t the biggest fan himself, but it was nice to have a little reminder of home.

 _Welcome to the Madness_ started up, baseline shaking the car as they drove on. Nina cackled happily as Alexei groaned, and Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle along with her.

“What is my life?” Alexei bemoaned.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexei allowed Nina to play the CD for about twenty minutes, then pulled rank and forced her to remove it. The car was now blissfully quiet and peaceful, countryside streaming by as they continued.

“I want to update you on a few things, Viktor,” Alexei spoke suddenly.

Viktor peeled his face off the side of the window.

“Oh?”

“There are two types of GPS on everyone’s cell phone. One is used mainly for apps. It’s much more accurate, but it can be easily disabled,” he continued, eyes narrowing as he spoke, “the kidnapper must have disabled that GPS as soon as she took him, because I had to rely on the other type of GPS in his phone. This other type is nearly impossible to turn off unless you completely disable the network provider or turn off the phone. It’s used mostly for emergency calls for first responders and uses the triangulation system, but it’s much less accurate.”

Viktor scrunched his nose. “So, that’s what we have to rely on, then… how accurate is it?”

“It gives you a one and a half mile radius,” Nina spoke up.

“Oh…” Viktor murmured, suddenly realizing why Alexei hadn’t seemed too hopeful about finding Yuuri today, especially if the location it took them to was in the middle of a town.

That’s right,” Alexei confirmed, “So you understand why I told you to bring things to cover up with? It won’t be hard for myself and Barkova –”

“It’s Nina when we’re off the clock, Alexei,” she sing-songed.

Alexei huffed. “And _Nina_ ,” he continued, stressing her name, “to not be noticed. But you especially are going to need to keep a low profile.”

Viktor nodded quickly. “Of course, you won’t have to worry about me.”

“Good,” he voiced, grip loosening on the wheel slightly, “And there’s another thing…” he trailed off, voice lessening in volume.

Viktor noted Nina’s expression in the rear-view mirror. It appeared guarded and closed off. She turned and stared out the window sullenly.

What was that about?

“Now that we have evidence that the kidnapper is a woman… it really narrows down the pool of criminals to look through,” he said carefully, “After all, there exists very few records of female kidnappers in Russia, especially ones that have never been caught.”

Viktor leaned towards Alexei, heart tattooing quickly. “So? Do you know who it could be?”

Alexei’s lips twitched. His body grew very still.

“Very possibly,” he whispered, “Although for Yuuri’s sake I hope I’m wrong.”

Viktor closed his eyes, heart leaping out of his chest. “What do you mean by that?”

Silence pervaded in the car. Alexei swallowed a few times, opening his mouth and then closing it as he tried to speak.

Viktor heard a deep sigh behind him.

“A woman by the name of Ko Kitagawa kidnapped a teenage boy several years back,” Nina spoke up softly, “It was actually the first case I had ever been assigned to," she murmured, voice softening. She inhaled before speaking again. "You have to understand, Viktor, we worked tirelessly on it, but Kitagawa was crafty. She left hardly any trace, any clues for us to latch on to.”

Viktor watched her deflate in the mirror, eyes hollowing as she stared out the window.

“After two years, the case went dry and we eventually had to shelve it and focus on other things… it remains unsolved to this day,” she breathed.

Viktor knew every case had to be draining for detectives, but the atmosphere in the car right now… Viktor shifted uneasily. It suggested a deep-seated pain. Whatever happened between these two and the kidnapped teen… it must have been personal.

“Wh- what was the teen’s name?” he asked carefully.

Nina’s lips pinched, posture closing off completely. Viktor looked at Alexei, flinching a little as he noticed the raw pain on the man’s face.

Alexei’s breath hitched. “His name was – _is_ Volya…”

Viktor frowned, cycling through his memories for anyone with the same name. Coming up with nothing, Viktor’s frown deepened. He stared at Alexei intently, brushing his bangs away from his face, waiting for him to continue.

Alexei stared out at the road ahead of him, a small, sad smile twisting his face. “…Volya Kozar…”

Viktor felt a vice grip his heart.

 _Surely not_.

“I haven’t seen my brother in over seven years, Viktor. There were little clues to go on, but what we did find… was rather disturbing, to say the least,” Alexei shuddered out. “For your sake, for our sake - for Yuuri’s sake most of all - I really, _really_ hope that’s not who were dealing with here.”

Oh.

Viktor shifted back in his seat, joining the other two as he stared blankly out the window.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one going through this problem – these two had apparently beaten him to it, it seemed. And this explained so much about Alexei, now that Viktor thought about it. His tireless and borderline obsession with the case, allowing Viktor to become involved even though it meant putting his job in jeopardy…

A cold fear gripped him. If Alexei’s suspicions were right, time was repeating itself. Viktor didn’t want to end up like him – constantly on edge, never at peace, hopeful yet fearful for any scrap of news.

No. He simply wouldn’t allow it. He refused. Besides, there wasn’t anything concrete yet that pointed towards this Kitagawa woman…

He clenched his teeth, aware that his cycling thoughts sounded a bit weak even to himself.

Whoever said ignorance was bliss was an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. All I can say is that life is busy and difficult. At least this chapter was long, though! I'm keeping the trend going of making every chapter longer and longer.
> 
> Regarding the phone GPS, I don't know if what I said is exactly right, but I did a bit of researching and one site explained it this way. Sorry if it's wrong! 
> 
> Next chapter will feature their foray into town as well as a bit of Yuuri! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! <3


	7. Fracturing

“Why am I letting you comfort me?” He stared over her head. “Because I’ve made sure you have no one else to turn to.”   
―  **Kresley Cole,  Lothaire**

**Chapter Seven: Fracturing**

The town square of Priozersk loomed over the hood of the car. Viktor narrowed his eyes as they approached, feeling the most awful sense of foreboding rise within him. It was just a regular town, nothing particularly noteworthy or frightening about it, but to Viktor, it was easy to let his mind wander, let each abandoned, decrepit building signal doom, allow the clouded skies to signify a sign of ill intent.

It was all too easy.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head in slight frustration. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to spiral again; he saw firsthand where that had led him last time: isolated, falling apart, held together by the seams. For the sake of himself, Yurio, and Yuuri most of all, he couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Alexei slowed the car to a halt, parking on the side of the street. He shut the car off, and the silence was sudden, like a vacuum. He no longer had the sound of the car’s quiet engine to distract him. Viktor squirmed, fidgeting with the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. On the way over, he had layered himself with a bulky sweater, scarf, hat, and sunglasses. He looked fairly non-descript in the outfit, especially once he shoved his bangs inside the beanie. Unless someone knew him really well, he probably wouldn’t be recognized.

Alexei sighed as he relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and angled his body towards Viktor.

 “Alright. The GPS signal ends here”, he said, eyes darting between Viktor’s and Nina’s, “His phone could be anywhere within a one-and-a-half-mile radius. I suggest we stick together, though. This is unknown territory.”

Viktor nodded, heart fluttering in his chest. He gripped the fabric of his pants, bunching it together under his sweaty grasp. Alexei cleared his throat, fished around in his bag a moment, and pulled out a pistol, wordlessly holding it out to Viktor. He swallowed and clasped it gingerly. The heavy, cool weight of the barrel seemed to cement the reality of the situation.

Viktor was holding a gun - going beneath the law.

But it was all to find Yuuri, a voice stubbornly reminded him.

Yuuri, the light of his life. His salvation.

He gripped the gun tighter before easing it into one of the many pockets in his layered ensemble, its weight a quiet reminder against his torso.

“If you notice anything suspicious, anything that makes you uncomfortable, let Nina or myself know. We can’t be too careful here,” Alexei stressed.

Viktor swallowed, trying to temper the relentless nerves sizzling through his body.

“Got it.”

Alexei released a short breath. Nina clasped the detective’s shoulder. “Same old, same old, then,” she murmured, eyes narrowed with a half-smile across her face, trying to reassure him. “We’ve got you covered, though, so no worries on that front.”

Alexei gave her a strained smile, another look passing between them above Viktor’s head. The skater watched them carefully, deciding not to ask. He’d only been around the two detectives for a short time, but he could tell that there was some sort of history between them.

Alexei cleared his throat, abruptly breaking the exchange.

“Alright, let’s get going, then,” he said brusquely, opening the car door with renewed purpose.

The three of them exited the car, making their way to the center of the square. It was a cold, cloudy day. The sky was subdued in tones of blues and greys, painting the quiet town in a soft, muted pallet. Viktor’s eyes wandered, taking note of the crumbling edges of buildings. The box-like quality of them was a silent reminder of the town’s soviet history, a testament to a time long since passed.

There was very little activity in the square and surrounding streets. It was a Sunday, though, so it was to be expected, but the lack of activity left Viktor with a hollow, numb feeling.

They walked around the perimeter of the square. Most of the shops were either closed for the day or simply boarded up, with FOR LEASE signs decorating their dusty windows.

Alexei and Nina occasionally paused to take pictures. Viktor ambled a few feet ahead of them, hands burrowed into his many layers, fingers just brushing the edge of the pistol. He stopped abruptly as he came across a shop front, _open_ sign flickering weakly in the grey light. He squinted his eyes, peering through the warped glass.

It appeared to be some sort of… fabric shop, if he was seeing it correctly. Thick bundles were stacked haphazardly in the tight space, appearing ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. Viktor’s fingers pressed against the glass as he drew closer. Perhaps the owner would know something about the kidnapper. Any detail, however small, would be extremely helpful.

A slight shuffle to his left caused Viktor to turn, meeting Alexei and Nina’s thoughtful gazes. Alexei squinted at the shop, chewing his bottom lip as he considered it before tilting his head in Nina’s direction.

“I’m going to check this place out,” he murmured.

Viktor bristled. Alone? Without him?

He turned, giving Alexei a significant look. The detective met his gaze and sighed. “ _We’re_ going to check this place out,” he corrected himself, gesturing between Viktor and himself. “If you could stay out here, Nina, and keep an eye out for anything suspicious, we’ll go ahead and go in.”

Nina nodded briskly, hand trailing into one of her front pockets. She likely had a gun of her own, Viktor thought, his own pressing lightly into his side.

“Got it,” she replied, eyes already proactively scanning the area. “If you’re not back in fifteen I’m coming in, though.”

“Noted.”

Alexei gave her a sharp nod as she melted into the side of the building. They turned and walked into the dim shop, a faint bell tone ringing in the back of the store upon their arrival.

It was a cluttered little shop. Viktor and Alexei had to be careful with every step they took, dodging rickety fabric towers as they made their way into the back. Viktor’s mouth pinched as he registered a slight moldy smell. It was likely coming from the fabrics themselves, if the layers of dust on each tower was any indication. Viktor wondered idly how this place managed to stay afloat.

Viktor and Alexei stilled when a sharp cough arose behind a fabric tower. Alexei stiffed, hand subconsciously trailing toward his hidden gun. Viktor’s heart palpitated. For these detectives, working with guns seemed to be second nature to them.

Would Viktor really have the guts to pull the trigger, to take a life, when it came down to it?

He clenched the barrel of his pistol, suddenly thinking of Yuuri, scared and alone.

Yes. He would do it if it came to it; he’d do anything to get him back.

His musings were interrupted as a head peaked around the tower. An old woman, hunched over with age, shuffled around the stack, giving Alexei and himself a through once over. Viktor’s grip on his pistol loosened.

She was just on old woman. Not much of a threat, right?

The old woman promptly pulled out an ornate knife and began cutting at a strip of fabric that was unrolled in front of her, eyeing them beadily. Viktor took a hasty step back, hand diving beneath his jacket.

Ok, maybe on second thought, it couldn’t hurt to be a little cautious.

“Can I help you with anything?” she spoke quietly, eyes roving over the two in suspicion.

The question was forced, obviously only asked out of propriety and good business sense, because from what Viktor could tell, she’d looked like she’d literally rather be anywhere else.

Alexei cleared his throat. “Actually, yes. You see we’re not here to shop, per say, but we do have a few questions that we hope you can answer.”

The old woman’s knife, which had been steadily cutting equal strips of fabric, stilled for a moment, then immediately picked up again, albeit at a faster pace.

Alexei took her silence as a cue to continue. He reached inside in his satchel, extracting a manila envelope. He opened it decisively and held out a single page for the woman’s inspection.

“Do you recognize this woman?”

The shopkeeper eyed him for a moment, leaning forward to inspect the paper while simultaneously continuing to rip the fabric. She only gave the paper a slight cursory glance – surely not enough to fully comprehend what was on it – before returning back to her work.

Viktor watched her hands. They were shaking.

“I don’t know who that woman is,” she said quickly, voice and demeanor closing off. She clearly didn’t want to talk about this woman at all, Viktor surmised, which likely meant that _she did_ know who she was and was hesitant to confirm it. 

Viktor glanced at Alexei. His face was pinched, eyes narrowed; he had to be thinking along the same lines. He took a step closer to the shopkeeper, who stiffened noticeably as he drew near.

“This woman,” he spoke, voice low and even, “has done a lot of terrible, awful things. Things that I don’t even want to mention out loud. She’s a menace, a demon to society, and needs to be found at all costs. Please, if you know anything at all, it could be a great help for our investigation.” As he spoke he fished out his official police badge, holding it up for her inspection. She was turned away from him, but glanced at it out of the corner of her eye.

She had stopped ripping the fabric, the ornate knife just at the end of a strip. It would only take a little more force to rip off the last segment.

She took a deep breath and turned to regard them fully now.

“Like I said, I don’t know anything about her. You’ll have to ask someone else.”

Damn. She was being so reticent. At this point it was obvious that she knew something, but what would it take to get her to talk? Money? Viktor had lots of it – he would gladly offer it if that was the case.

Or maybe…

Maybe she was being threatened. Viktor watched her continue her work. The fabric strips were frayed, uneven – a far cry from the smooth, clean lines he had witnessed her make earlier.

Viktor cleared his throat, giving Alexei a look to make sure it was ok to proceed. He nodded.

Viktor took a step forward, no longer fingering the barrel of his pistol. If this woman really was being threatened, he wouldn’t need it. She would be just as much of a victim as himself in this situation.

Viktor leaned in, speaking softly. “You’re being threatened, aren’t you?”

Her hands clenched around the knife handle. Viktor looked at it again. It really was a unique knife, intricate and detailed, metal work smooth and refined. It had to cost a lot of money. He glanced up at her face again.

“If you’re scared, the state can offer you assistance,” he continued, glad that he had taken so many notes from both Alexei and his own research in the past few weeks, “get you far away from here. You’d be safe. You could start a new life; away from her.”

The little shop suddenly felt crowded and rather stifling. Viktor’s words seeming to ring throughout the silence, filling the space.

“How do I know you’re not lying…” she whispered, so low that Viktor could barely detect it.  “That this isn’t another test of hers?”

Viktor paused, an awful feeling slithering deep in his gut. So the shopkeeper _was_ being threatened by Kitagawa. This, more than anything, was just more evidence that pointed towards her being Yuuri’s kidnapper.

But how could they convince her that they were telling the truth?

A sudden, slightly reckless idea came to Viktor, and before he allowed himself to think it over too much, he went for it.

He unwound his scarf, removed his sunglasses, and took off his hat in a flurry, letting his bangs fall into his eyes. He ignored Alexei’s soft curse and continued, staring the woman right in the face. Viktor was quite famous all over Russia, especially being an Olympic gold medalist, but there were still a few people who may not have heard of him, simply because they didn’t follow the sports circle too closely.

But now was different.

Viktor couldn’t turn on the television without seeing a segment following the kidnapping of the foreign ice skater from Japan. Couldn’t get away from all the pity everyone’ had for the skater’s fiancé, Russia’s own 5-time grand prix gold medalist, Viktor Nikiforov.

There was no way the owner didn’t at least recognize him from that.

And it seemed that she did recognize him, if the raised eyebrows and exhaled breath was any indication. Viktor leaned forward, trying to transmit even a fraction of the emotions coursing through him.

“I can promise you that this isn’t a trick - I wouldn’t risk my fiancé’s safety like that,” he began, voice shaking with fervor. “I’m doing all I can to find him, and if you know anything that could help us, I promise that we will keep you safe, or my name isn’t Viktor Nikiforov,” he swore solemnly.

Her eyes were wide as he spoke and she blinked a few times before speaking.

“So… so you think that Yuuri Katsuki was kidnapped by her?”

Viktor looked towards Alexei. A frown marred his face as he caught his eye, clearly displeased with Viktor’s methods. He turned to the woman.

“There’s a very strong possibility. At this point, Kitagawa is the best lead we have.”

The woman’s face turned solemn. She deflated a little, wrinkles dropping in her face. She stared at the floor morosely.

“I don’t know who Kitagawa is… but I do know the woman in this picture,” she began, trembling hands clutched around the knife. “There’s a market here, in the middle of this square, that happens every month. People come from all over the district to sell their goods, including her, except everyone here knows her as _Litvina_.”

At this point Alexei had whipped out a pad and was scribbling furiously as she wrote. He glanced up at her through his fringe.

“This Litvina… do you know where she lives?”

The shopkeeper gave him a sad smile as she shook her head. “I’m afraid not. She has quite the reputation around here, what with her knives and all, but she only ever stops by once a month.”

A heavy frown settled over Viktor’s face.

“Knives?” he asked, heart picking up pace.

“Oh yes. Litvina is quite famous for them. She’s got an international reputation, from what I’ve heard, and for good reason too. I’ve never been able to find knives as sharp and as beautiful as hers,” she maintained, demeanor picking up strength the more she spoke.

“In fact,” she continued, holding up the knife she used the cut the fabric, “this is one of hers right here.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. He reached out, eager to inspect something of the kidnapper’s. He turned it over in his hands slowly, pausing when something caught his eye.

“There’s an insignia here!” he cried.

And indeed, at the end of the ornate handle there were two small characters. Alexei crowded in, clasping Viktor’s hand to steady it as he took a closer look.

“These are Japanese characters,” he murmured lowly before meeting Viktor’s gaze. “I bet you anything that once we translate these we’ll find a match to Kitagawa.”

Viktor nodded quickly, eager to go back and do more research. If they could find out more about her knife business, which was international, after all, they’d likely be able to find more clues about her; more leads.

“Do you mind if we take this into custody?” Alexei asked, gesturing towards the knife. “You’ll be coming with us now, of course, but we’d like to take this in for further inspection.”

She nodded, face crinkling into a wry smile. “It’s my best knife, so I’ll be a bit sad to see it go, but if it helps you capture that – _that demon_ , then I suppose it’s for the best.”

Alexei smiled shortly, giving her his thanks, and sealed it in a plastic bag before placing it in his satchel. “I just have one more question for you, before we leave,” he said briskly. “You say she comes to the market every month… you wouldn’t happen to know where she sets up shop? We’re looking for something of hers, you see, and think it might be near that area.”

Oh right. Yuuri’s phone – that’s what they came here for. Viktor had gotten so caught up in the knife business that he had nearly forgotten.

The shopkeeper’s eyes roved Alexei’s face, nodding slowly. “Yes, I know. I can take you there as soon as I close up shop.”

He gave her a sharp nod and told her that they’d be waiting outside with another detective. Once reunited with Nina, they told her the gist of the encounter, and after a few minutes the shopkeeper shuffled out, locking the door behind her. They walked for a few minutes, exchanging the typical pleasantries that quickly fell flat; understandable, given the nature of the activity.

Nothing about this situation was very pleasant for anyone.

The shopkeeper stopped in front of a non-descript store front, which, like many of the others, had remained empty with no tenant.

“This is where she sets up her booth; right in front of this store,” she said, gesturing to the washed-out pavement. “She only stays for a few hours, but you wouldn’t believe the number of people who show up to buy her knives; sometimes people even show up from different countries for the chance to buy one.”

As she spoke, Nina began circling the area, taking a rapid succession of photos on her camera. Viktor and Alexei scanned the space as well. The shopkeeper continued, a bit quieter now.

“I’m one of the only shops that remain in this square. Everyone else has gone out of business. I’ve seen a lot of… questionable things from her over the years,” she murmured, voice shaking a little.

“Eventually she noticed me watching her, and it was too late to do anything about it. She’s been threatening me for a long time now, checking up on me, making sure that I haven’t said anything.”

Viktor took a few steps forward, eyes locked on a trash can that had a dark, tied off bag sitting on top. He barely heard Nina quietly consoling the shopkeeper as he drew near.

He tilted his head, peering into the lid. He knew it was probably a long shot, but something about the non-descript bag was calling him. He reached out a shaking hand and lifted it out, struck with its lightness. Whatever was in here made it look a lot bulkier and heavier than it actually was.

He untied the knot and peered inside, nearly dropping it in shock.

He must have let out a small cry, because the others came rushing, surrounding him in an instant as he continued to stare into the bag, transfixed.

Inside was Yuuri’s clothing - the exact clothing he wore on the day of his kidnapping. Viktor unearthed his sweatshirt, an all-consuming grief washing over him as he brought it to his face, inhaling Yuuri’s oh so familiar scent. He shuddered, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Let me see, Viktor,” Alexei said softly, taking the bag out of his weak grasp. Viktor let the fabric fall from his face, but kept it clutched against his heart.

Alexei stilled as he searched through the bag.

“Oh, thank God,” he said hurriedly, setting the bag down as he extracted gloves and another plastic bag from his satchel.

“What-what is it?” Viktor choked out, desperate for any source of good news.

Alexei glanced up as he put on clear gloves, a vicious smile on his face.

“We’ve found his phone.”

Viktor exhaled forcefully. It was nowhere near to finding his Yuuri, but it was a step closer.

It was progress.

“Once we do DNA analysis on this thing, it won’t be long until we can confirm for sure that Kitagawa is behind this,” he continued, eyes flashing with excitement.

“It won’t be long before we find her, Viktor. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

There was a break right down the middle of the mirror, smaller cracks fanning and thinning out like veins as they traveled further from the source.

Yuuri stared solemnly at his distorted image. He moved his head back and forth, fascinated as his face took on a multitude of dizzying images. After a moment, he stilled.

Dark eyes stared back at him. The hair was thick and matted; the cheeks, hollow. He tilted his head, contemplating the image before him.

That couldn’t be him, could it?

“Hoshito,” a voice rang out. Yuuri found himself responding automatically to her call, turning away from the mirror and heading downstairs. It was second nature at this point.

“Yes, mother?” he responded.

The kidnapper stood suddenly from her place at the table, a canvas satchel resting securely under her arm.

“I have a surprise planned for you today,” she divulged, eyes glinting.

Yuuri felt his head tilt in wonder and his lips upturn automatically. “What is it?”

She smiled sweetly, taking a few steps forward, and reaching out a hand to caress his cheek. Yuuri found himself leaning into the touch.

“You’ll just have to see, my dear. It’ll ruin the surprise if I tell you.” She patted his cheek, turning to leave out the back door.

Yuuri followed her.

They trekked out in the woods for several minutes. The kidnapper was mostly quiet, letting the sounds of snapping branches and crunching snow fill the silence. Occasionally, she would glance at Yuuri out of the corner of her eye, making sure that he was still following, and every time she would look Yuuri would smile back automatically. She’d return the smile for a fleeting second, narrowed eyes and curling mouth hinting at a deeper meaning, then continue staring straight ahead.

After ten more minutes of walking, they made it to a clearing. Yuuri stopped abruptly, blinking rapidly as he took in the icy expanse of a frozen lake in front of him and the distant clouds that announced a brewing storm. His heartrate started to pick up.

_He…he didn’t remember how he got here._

He looked around wildly, just catching sight of the kidnapper starring at him thoughtfully. Yuuri racked his brains. He… he could remember walking for a bit… and… and waking up this morning and going to the bathroom, but the details were fuzzy. He found his memories lacking when he tried to dig deeper, coming up short.

He’d been doing this recently, spacing out so much that he couldn’t always remember exact details when he came to.

It was frightening. It was chilling.

It was how he coped.

He turned to look at her. She smiled wickedly in return. In his fuzzy memory, he could recall her smiling nicely at him, almost lovingly. This…this smile was nowhere near that. He shook a little from where he stood, just on the edge between the lake and the frozen ground.

How could he ever think that she was anything other than evil?

“It’s been a while since you’ve last done this, Hoshito,” she crooned, reaching into her satchel. “I figured that you deserved a reward for being such an obedient son, though, which is why I brought you here.”

She revealed two pairs of ice skating shoes from her bag. Yuuri startled internally. One of the skates was the one he found in the basement a few days ago.

She held that pair out toward him.

“I bet you’ve missed skating, dear.”

Yuuri eyed the light blue skates. She wasn’t wrong, of course. He missed skating perhaps more than just about anything other than his loved ones. He’d been itching to glide across smooth ice without a care. Ice skating had that effect on him; it could calm him instantly.

He inched up to her and grabbed the skates gingerly. Now that he was looking at them in better lighting, he could tell that they were fairly new. The blades were shiny and sharp, despite having been packed away for an undetermined time.

He glanced up at her under his fringe. She watched him beadily, expectantly. She nodded towards the skates.

“Well what are you waiting for, Hoshito? I figured you could give your old mother a performance – let us relive some of the good memories from the past,” she drawled.

Yuuri gulped, clutching the skates close to his chest. He shakily sat down on a nearby rock and began untying his shoes, fiercely glad that he chose to wear thick socks this morning. He began gingerly shoving his foot into the first skate. His brows furrowed as his toes met the edge of the skate before he could place his whole foot inside. He glanced up at her hesitatingly. She sat on a rock nearby, lacing up her own pair of skates.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“These skates are too small. I… I must have outgrown them,” he said quietly, waiting tensely for her response.

She stopped tying her skates after he spoke, ragged hair falling in front of her face. She peered at him eerily through the wiry curls.

“Excuse me?” she asked quietly, a dangerous edge to her tone.

A shiver ran down Yuuri’s spin. He recognized that intonation quite well. It was the one that suggested that there would be no benefit to pressing further; no point in trying to reason with her.

In short, it was a warning.

“Ah, nothing mother,” he said quickly, shoving his foot into the skate while hiding a wince, “I’m just excited to skate again.”

She studied him for a second longer, eyes narrowed, then returned to lacing her own skates. Yuuri shuddered out a sigh and did the same.

Yuuri stood and wobbled to the edge of the lake, feet smarting with each step. They wouldn’t be pretty after all this was said and done. Yuuri was quite familiar with his fair share of sores and bruises that came along with skating, but with a pair of skates two sizes too small?

Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.

He took his first tentative step on the rough ice, wobbling a little despite his experience. He sucked in a harsh breath at the sound of soft cracking, but forced himself to continue.  Ice at the edge of a lake was always the most weak and unstable. Once he made it out to deeper water the ice would be thicker, he told himself rationally, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat.

Yuuri stumbled a little as he made his way out. Unfinished, raw ice was completely different to skate on. None of the harsh ridges of the ice had been smoothed away; the ice crunched especially loud on rough patches as he moved along. Despite this, he eventually made his way to a more stable patch of ice farther out.

He turned around, eyes catching on the phone that was trained on him. She skated several feet away from Yuuri, eerie smirk and dark eyes watching him gleefully. She was surprisingly steady on her skates, beyond that of an amateur surely, for she showed no hesitation or fear as she glided to a clean stop. She met Yuuri’s eyes across the icy expanse.

“Are you ready, Hoshito? I’d like to see one of your past performances…” she trailed off, eyes narrowing in contemplation. Her face cleared as she came to a decision. “Ah, how about you perform _Solitudinem_ ; it’s perhaps my favorite piece of yours,” she continued, head tilting as her lips upturned, “and rather fitting now, isn’t it?”

Solitudinem.

_Solitutde._

That was fitting, indeed.

Yuuri watched her phone warily, aware that she had begun recording.

He shuffled uneasily on the ice.

_He didn’t know what to do._

She wanted him to preform one of Hoshito’s old routines, but Yuuri only had his own to draw on. When he inevitably failed to meet her expectations, she would have some sort of punishment.

He knew she would. God, he knew it.

“Well, what are you waiting for, dear?” she asked, voice lilting with obvious amusement.

Yuuri gave her a quick half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked down at his light blue skates, blinking his eyes rapidly. His vision began to swim with tears, blurring the harsh edges and divots of the ice below. A shuddering breath came out against his own violation. He felt her skate closer to him, a dark presence seemingly following her path.

Lightning quick, a hand shot out and grasped his chin, forcing his face to her level. Her other hand held the camera, which had to be still recording, because she held it in just the right position to capture her hand on his cheek.

“Hoshito,” she whispered, voice layered with anger, “You’ll do as I say.” Her hand shook as she held his jaw.

Yuuri’s lips trembled. He met her gaze shakily, tears tracking down his cheeks. This was all too much; eating rat, being isolated from everyone he loved, eternally on edge as he tried his very best to survive in this hell hole.

It was all too much. It was all too much.

Too much.

Too –

“I won’t ask you again.” The hand tightened even more on his cheek, but Yuuri hardly felt its pressure. “Skate for me.”

Yuuri met her eyes, his own finally clear, and nodded.

He eased his way out of her grip and skated into position. Whatever came to him in the moment, he did it. He probably drew on a lot of his past performances, but it was hard to tell. He felt disconnected from it all, like he was a spectator watching his body perform without input. He was in the fog again, and he found a small portion of his mind rebelling, telling him to snap out of it, but it was quickly squashed every time he caught a glance of the kidnapper with each spin and turn.

He continued skating for as long as the biting in his toes would let him, until the lightly dusting snow came down in earnest.

After landing a jump, he faltered, sliding across the ice as he landed roughly. He groaned, feeling the impact throughout his entire body. Glancing up into the sky, Yuuri squinted around the clumping snow, just making out what had to be the faint outline of a plane crossing the sky.

A sudden melancholy came over him as he watched it pass lazily over him, jet fuel painting a harsh line over the billowing storm clouds in the distance. 

A hand grasped his shoulder roughly, pulling him into a sitting position. Yuuri found himself manhandled until he stood up again.

His feet ached in protest.

“What was that?” the kidnapper spat. “I specifically told you to preform _Solitudinem_ , not whatever you concocted just then.”

Yuuri’s eyes followed the plane’s progression, and it wasn’t until a harsh slap jolted his face that he came to and met her furious gaze once more.

Her lips were downturned. Her eyes were flashing. She grabbed his shoulder with more force.

“Come on, then. It’s time to go home. And then we’ll see about your punishment.”

They glided along. Yuuri stared at the plane.

It would be so nice, wouldn’t it? To simply be free? To glide along in the sky, unchained from the struggles of reality.

Yuuri closed his eyes, smiling.

Yes. It would be so nice.

_Crack!_

Yuuri’s eyes flipped open, a shout leaving him as he found himself tumbling backwards.

Ice, unlike any he had ever felt before, surrounded him completely. He gasped involuntarily, inhaling it into his lungs.

Cold, cold, cold.

Everything was so _cold_.

Yuuri thrashed, body going into overdrive from the sudden deluge into the water. He squinted his eyes and peered up. The kidnapper looked down at him, head tilted, contemplative. Yuuri called out, bubbles leaving his mouth as he called out to her.

She continued to watch, an unmoving statue.

Yuuri’s thrashing slowed as he lost energy, as the icy grips of the water seeped into him. He felt his mind drifting, and before he completely lost consciousness he had one last thought that rang through his head.

It would be so easy to forget, to give up, to let all of his struggles disappear.

Letting go and forgetting all of this…would be so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Hopefully you won't hate me too much for the ending of this chapter, haha. I know it's a bit of a cliff hanger.  
> But on the plus side, I'll be on spring break next week so the next chapter won't take nearly as long to come out. Hallelujah! 
> 
> So I have both a beta reader and a gamma reader for this story now! (Yay! Now you guys won't have to suffer through my awkwardly worded phases...) [TotallyNotANobody](https://totallynotanobody.tumblr.com/) edited this chapter, so I want to give them a big thanks!
> 
> Also, ART ALERT!!! My lovely gamma reader drew a couple of scenes which can be found [here](https://totallynotanobody.tumblr.com/post/158376339623/fanart-for-chapter-seven-of-katyatons-fanfic). It's so awesome I'm sobbing ;_;
> 
> I added a few lines to the last chapter to include Makkachin. As Nastia so graciously reminded me, I forgot to include the doggo in the last chapter! But it's all good now :)
> 
> Lastly, this fic has undergone a name change, so if you're a bit confused don't be! I figured the new name encompasses much more of the story line and themes than the previous title.
> 
> Anyways, I'll see everyone next time! I'd love to know what you thought of the latest nail-biting chapter!


	8. Detached

“Indeed, she often wondered if she were dead, or dying from the inside out, and that was the root of her calm, the reason she could surrender her character.”   
―  **Gregory Maguire** ,  **A Lion Among Men**

**Chapter Eight: Detached**

He was without.

Without name, without body, without purpose.

He drifted: unsure, unaware. The only thing he did know - and know with absolute conviction - was that he was cold. Everything else was secondary to this primitive fixation.

Things began to shift. Patterns and noiseless voices filtered across the void. Speckled lights and foreign touches caressed his consciousness. In time, the prickling feelings of cold transformed into a new sensation.

A pulsing beat throbbed through what had to be his legs. His fingers, an extension of himself he had forgotten existed, twitched over scratchy cotton. A heavy weight pressed on his chest and a mild prickling sensation tickled his throat.

He inhaled slowly, brow furrowing in confusion as the weight remained, making it inexorably hard to breathe.

The mild irritation grew in magnitude, and suddenly it could no longer be ignored.

Yuuri opened his eyes as a huge cough racked through his body. He rolled to the side, eyes watering as he clutched his stomach, heaving body shaking the wooden frame of the bed. His coughs were unproductive, though, and did little to lessen the discomfort in his chest.

He could feel something rattling in his chest deep within, could hear a slight wheezing noise at the end of each cough.

He rolled on his back again, blinking slowly.

He was in… what had to be his room, he supposed. His brain processed his surroundings sluggishly. How did he get here again?

The last thing he remembered was... was the cold, the absolute cold that surrounded him on all sides.

He shuddered.

There was no way he was dead, for he couldn’t in any way imagine the afterlife like this, miserable and sick and so, so confused.

His brow furrowed as a sudden memory came to him. He could recall someone staring down at him impassively, as if they had a clinical interest in Yuuri’s drowning.

Whoever that was - and Yuuri was having the hardest time remembering - they had to have saved him, pulled him out of the lake and taken him to safety. The person looked familiar to Yuuri. He had to know them from somewhere, right? He began to grow frustrated as his mind drew a blank slate. A headache began curling its way through his consciousness.

It was no use. He couldn’t for the life of him recall how this person was related to him.

A sudden sharp pain licked through his head. Yuuri groaned, pressing his finger against his temples; he was burning up. He took a hesitant deep breath and promptly started coughing again.

It would be best to not try that again any time soon, he thought wearily. Yuuri closed his eyes in defeat, deflating into the bed.

He was absolutely miserable.

After a few minutes, the door to the room creaked open and a person slid into the room. Yuuri opened his eyes blearily, assessing the figure as they approached. The strangest sense of déjà vu came across him suddenly. Why was all of this so familiar?

Yuuri frowned, pushing his discomfort to the back of his fever induced mind. If it was really that much of a concern, he could revisit it later.

The figure drew closer and came into the light. Yuuri startled internally; it was his savior – the person who recovered him from the lake.

Yuuri opened his mouth, determined to vocalize his gratitude, but nothing but a quiet rasp was audible. He released a frustrated breath, then tried again, dissolving into more weak coughs.

Soft chuckles warbled in the room amidst his coughing. The bed creaked and depressed on one side as the woman sat on the edge. Yuuri collected himself after a couple of moments and turned to meet her gaze.

She watched him levelly, searchingly. She was a rather haggard woman, sharp cheek bones jutting out from her face, only further pronouncing her dark, deep set eyes. Her hair was frazzled. Her clothes; ragged and billowy.

But it wasn’t all bad. Yuuri tilted his head, considering. There was something achingly familiar about her - some quality she possessed that drew him in. She smiled slowly as she watched him asses her.

He must have known this woman quite well, for why would she have taken such good care of him, saved him, when he needed it most? Who exactly was she to him?

“You’re finally awake, son,” she spoke and suddenly, Yuuri knew.

So… so this woman was his mother. He smiled hesitantly in response. It didn’t feel exactly wrong to call her that. In fact, part of him found a shocking familiarity in it, but another part of him, buried deep, niggled slightly at the thought.

“How are you feeling, dear?” the woman continued, likely unaware of Yuuri’s conflicting thoughts, “For a while there I was worried. I didn’t think you’d pull though.” She reached out a hand and started carding it through his hair. Yuuri leaned into the touch, squashing down the strange, fluttering feelings of dread decisively.

He needed help; this much was clear. And this woman, his apparent mother, was willing to give it. He’d address those concerns later, he told himself, promptly placing those foreign thoughts and feelings into a locked box deep in his mind.

He inhaled a short breath, cognizant of his inability to speak. Whispering would have to work for now. “How –” he broke off, coughing weakly. “How long was I out?”

Her hand continued to card through his scalp. Yuuri closed his eyes; it felt nice.

“Two days,” she replied. Her hand stilled in his hair, clutching it suddenly like a lifeline. “You’ve been going in and out of varying states of consciousness. This is the first time you’ve been awake enough to have an actual conversation. I’ve been taking care of you; reducing your fever, feeding you medicine, and staying by your sick bed this whole time,” she supplied, voice steady.

Yuuri opened his eyes and peered up at his mother. She… certainly seemed tired. It couldn’t have been easy taking care of him. Those dark under eye circles didn’t seem so sinister anymore, considering the past few days. And her haggard appearance… well, Yuuri would challenge anyone to look decent after spending two days straight on constant alert, likely with very little sleep.

He made little grabbing motions for her hand, too weak to supply his. After a few seconds, she reached over and clasped it with her own. He clutched their combined hands, bringing them to his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he breathed, searching her face beseechingly.

Her eyes flashed after he spoke, followed by a soft intake of breath. The hand in his grip spasmed slightly before gripping Yuuri’s hand with a surprising strength. His mother leaned in close, a large smile stretching across her thin face.

“It’s my job to take care of you, Hoshito - it’s what mothers do, after all.” She spoke with an almost reverent tone, thumb tracing across the back of his hand in mindless swoops. Yuuri frowned slightly as he processed her words.

Hoshito…

That…that wasn’t his name. Yuuri. Yuuri was his name, wasn’t it?

_Wasn’t it?_

Maybe he had simply forgotten… maybe he was missing more memories from the incident than he thought. He reconsidered the name.

Hoshito… it didn’t feel completely wrong to be called that.

He smiled at her blearily. If his mother said that was his name, then it was his name. He’d trust her on this.

The imaginary box in his head, filled with his earlier worries, rattled quietly at his decision, but he found it easy to ignore. He shoved it deeper into the recesses of his mind.

It only retreated farther as his fever spiked again, as she began to feed him dinner, as he grew weary and exhausted, body stretched thin and worn from battling the illness.

In time, he nearly forgot that the box existed. Buried under layers of confusion, he closed his eyes and simply existed.

He was purely _without_ in this crazed state of consciousness. And how lovely it was, he found, to simply not be.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri awoke abruptly, flinching as the light pierced his eyes. He blinked, mind slowly restarting as he peered around the room. Light streamed in from the window.

It was a new day.

Yuuri breathed hesitantly, instantly relived when no fluttering feeling in his chest irritated him. He took a deep breath, stretching across the messy sheets.

He knew he had been desperately sick over the past few days. Little snippets of the experience were all he could recall. This made sense, though, especially if the fever was as high as he remembered it. 

He sat up shakily as memories of the icy lake trickled through his mind. He shivered in remembrance. At this point, he was glad to be back in his room, as crazy as that sounded.

At least here he was safe. At least here he was warm.

Yuuri glanced at the clock; nearly noon time. It looked like she allowed him to sleep in. Grabbing the top blanket, he wrapped it securely around his shoulders, slowly making his way downstairs.

For the first time since he had been here, he felt hungry.

He settled into the kitchen chair, waiting patiently for her to make him breakfast like always. It would likely take a while for his strength to return, he knew, so it was best to start now with a warm meal.

Yuuri twiddled his thumbs as he waited.

The relative quiet dissolved as the back door rattled. Yuuri turned, greeting the woman as she trudged in from the cold outdoors, trailing clumps of snow in the threshold. She released a pleased gasp as she met his eyes.

“Hoshito! You’re awake again!” she said, shuffling closer and placing a hand on his head.  “How do you feel?”

Yuuri’s smile faltered as a slight unease settled over him.

_Hoshito._

Yuuri knew this wasn’t his name, knew that the woman was under the delusion that he was her son, but part of him, just for a second there, felt inexorably pleased when she referred to him as that.

Being called Hoshito sounded right, for some reason - fitting, even, despite the small part of him that rebelled against the name.

She tilted her head as she assessed his expression. Her hand stilled on his cheek. “Is something wrong, dear?”

Yuuri swallowed, meeting her eyes carefully. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he began, voice wavering, “I’m just…so grateful that you saved me,” he confessed. Her eyes searched his face for a moment, a large smile erupted across her face. She pulled him against her chest and cradled the back of his head.

Yuuri shuddered and closed his eyes, leaning into her bulk.

The scary thing was, Yuuri found that he _was_ grateful to her. She didn’t have to save him. She didn’t have to spend days rearing him back from near death. Sure, she was the one who took him ice skating, but it was all in good fun, wasn’t it? She knew ice skating was something he enjoyed; it wasn’t her fault that the ice broke…

She released him after a moment and began puttering around the kitchen. She grabbed the warped canister of oatmeal and began preparing the meal, humming a mindless tune while doing so. Yuuri watched her from his place in the kitchen, an odd sense of warmth tingling in his stomach as she cooked.

These feelings were… so strange, so conflicting with how he knew he should feel. He knew he had been kidnapped, that this woman was delusional, and he still had all the feelings associated with that knowledge, but now… now he found them muted, buried. They were still there, of course, but they were seemingly at war with the conflicting thoughts circulating through his mind.

Yuuri continued to watch her in a daze. Like an errant firefly, her light hums speckled into his consciousness, weaving in and out as his mind continued to war. The surrounding sounds and sights started to narrow, disappear.

“Hoshito.”

Everything unnecessary, all other stimuli, was tossed and disregarded, leaving him with no company other than his own chaotic mind.

“Hoshito.”

In his mind, he was safe. In his mind, he didn’t have to worry about the reality of his situation. Deep within the confines of his mind, he could be safe; safe from her, safe from this situation.

“Hoshito!” Yuuri eyes opened suddenly as his head snapped to the left. He frowned, registering a dulled pain across his cheek. He turned his head and met the kidnapper’s dark eyes. They narrowed in anger.

“I don’t know why this has been such a problem with you lately,” she spat. Yuuri felt flecks of spit dot his face, but didn’t even flinch. “When you’re spoken to, you respond. Do I make myself clear?”

Yuuri stared at her, mind still sluggish. She gripped the back of his head by his hair and forced his head up at a sharp angle. She spoke again, voice low and shaking. “ _I said_ , do I make myself clear?”

Yuuri gasped out a feeble ‘yes’ as the grip on his hair tightened. He understood that this type of treatment was wrong, unacceptable, yet he couldn’t help shrinking in on himself as she continued to stare angrily at him, slight feelings of guilt settling in his stomach like lead. She gazed at him for a moment longer.

Her mouth quirked up in a smirk.

She released his head abruptly and returned to the stove. Yuuri remained, slight tingles from her touch ghosting across the back of his head, prickling the edges of his cheek. She returned to the meal, hums louder and more prominent than previous. She grabbed the warped canister and upended it into the boiling pot.

Yuuri’s gaze lingered on its asymmetric form. It really was a misshapen thing, wasn’t it? The warped edges jutted like sharp daggers in her clasp, molding around her clenched hand like a glove. With how manhandled it looked, it was amazing that it was still staying together.

She sat down the canister and continued to work over the pot, addressing Yuuri across the room. “I’m sure you’ll want to see the video I took the other day. You always liked to review your skates – see what you could do to better yourself. If you’re a good boy, Hoshito, and manage to get all of your work done in the next few days, I might just show it to you.”

Yuuri regarded her hunched back as he slowly processed the words. That’s right. She - she had taken a video. In all the confusion, he had nearly forgotten. And… if Yuuri remembered correctly, she had taken it on her phone.

_Her phone._

Yuuri’s eyes flickered to the countertop where it rested next to the distorted container. He swallowed as a visceral realization, reckless and without abandon, tumbled through him in force. His earlier thoughts and emotions were like the rings of the storm. Now, he was in the eye. He could still sense and feel those past thoughts, but they were apart from him, giving him this sudden clarity.

This video might just be his ticket out.

He knew that the kidnapper’s face was shown in the video – she had tilted it just so to capture them both before she forced him to skate. If he could get a hold of her phone, he could send out the video somehow. It would be irrefutable proof that he was her captive. And there had to be somebody who at least knew of this woman. Perhaps someone would know where she lived, he told himself reassuringly. Yuuri himself had no idea where he was, but with enough coverage, he was reasonably confident that someone would be able to connect the dots.

It… it was all he had to go on, really, even if it didn’t work.

Calling others wouldn’t help if he couldn’t tell them his location, and he honestly doubted the reception out here would be that great anyways; the call may not even connect. Besides, that method would be fraught with risk. If she heard him talking or noticed the caller history… well, Yuuri didn’t want to contemplate what would happen. It wouldn’t be pretty, though, that he could be sure of.

Yes - the video was the best chance he had right now.

He needed to do it soon, before the momentary calm in his mind receded. He could still sense his thoughts – thoughts that prickled with sympathy and guilt for even contemplating going through with such a plan – that could be triggered and unleashed at the slightest provocation.

Yuuri’s mind was slipping. He knew this, perhaps for several weeks, but hadn’t actually acknowledged it until now.

Time was of the essence.

He wasn’t just battling his physical entrapment anymore; there was a new front to this war.

This new mental battle would be much more difficult to overcome.

 

* * *

 

Alexei knew that time was critical when it came to kidnapping cases. He knew all the statistics, knew them from the familiarity garnered from nights spent in endless company with hard numbers and starch reports. He knew that, statistically, the majority of victims were usually taken by family members, people already close to the victim. He also knew that most cases of kidnapping resulted in the victim’s death within the first twenty-four hours. The kidnappers usually grew nervous after the act and would kill their victims off quickly. If the victim was not recovered in the first twenty-four hours, the probability of them being recovered alive dwindled close to zero with each progressive day.

Nights spent researching, desperate to find any clues whatsoever about Volya had made him very, very familiar with these statistics.

It had been over a month.

Statistically, it didn’t look too good for Yuuri Katsuki.

He knew this. Barkova knew this. He imagined that Viktor knew it as well.

They all knew this, and yet they continued to work tirelessly, for how could they stop, when the probability of finding him alive never _actually_ reached zero?

If there was still a possibility that he was out there, Alexei would continue to work, would devote his life to it if he had to.

He wasn’t quite willing to let go of Volya, after all.

Alexei sighed, grabbing his enormous thermos with two hands. It was originally a gag gift from Nina at last year’s holiday party. She never really stopped making fun of him for his coffee dependence, citing tea as the “much healthier alternative beverage”, but Alexei wasn’t convinced. She likely took caffeine pills like the other detectives and was too proud to admit that her tea wasn’t enough to keep her going during those long investigative nights.

Regardless, Alexei coveted the ridiculous mug. It was just big enough to supply him two hours’ worth of energy –  four times better than the standard thermoses you could acquire at department stores. 

He took a long gulp, closing his eyes as he felt his headache ease instantly. He set it down and sighed again, ready to return to work when a knock rapped against the office door. He glanced at the clock.

Ah. It was 13:00 already. Nina was right on time.

He cleared his throat. “Come in.”

Nina wasted no time and barreled into the office, a whirlwind of frazzled hair and loose papers. “I just got off the phone with Viktor - he’ll be here at 15:00. I suspect we’re going to go over what we know about Kitagawa, yes?”

“I- Yes, I suppose we should inform him,” Alexei responded a bit uneasily, staring down at his notes.

Nina sat down in the chair across from his desk. Alexei could feel her penetrating gaze assessing him. She inhaled suddenly. “Alexei…” she began, voice hesitant, “I know this whole situation is… really hard, especially when you consider how similar it is to Vol -”

“Yes, I know,” he contributed, cutting her off abruptly. He looked up and met her concerned gaze. “Rationally, _I know_ that we probably have the same case here - the same kidnapper. Everything lines up. The circumstances are eerily similar. Even… even the victims are similar.”

Nina’s eyes were searching. “I was wondering when you were going to bring it up, but… there’s just too many similarities between Yuuri and Volya to ignore, Alexei,” she stressed. She looked down towards her notes and unearthed a sheet, reading from it in a flurry. “I actually documented a few things, just for comparison’s sake. First of all, both Yuuri and Volya have similar features and colorings. They’re almost the same age, Yuuri only a couple months older. And lastly, what I think is the most striking, is that they’re both skaters.” She looked up at Alexei, gaze intense.

“Alexei, there’s something here. Kitagawa has some sort of - of type,” she murmured in frustration. “I don’t know why she has this fixation, but it’s a little starting how similar they are, isn’t it?”

Alexei nodded. Yes. He knew all of these things already, had considered it in great detail. It was nice to hear it confirmed from someone else.

Nina leaned in even further. “Do you know what this means, then? Alexei… there could be a pattern here. We found out from the shopkeeper - Ms. Durov – that she does international business with her knives. She’s obviously well versed with other countries… What if –” she paused, brow furrowing. When she spoke again she was whispering. “What if Volya and Yuuri aren’t the only two she’s kidnapped?”

Alexei winced. Everything Nina was saying made perfect sense. He didn’t want to consider this possibility until it seemed there was no other route to take, but at this point he had no choice.

“You’re right, Nina,” he sighed wearily, deflating in his chair, “We could very well have a case of serial kidnapping.”

Nina was silent for a moment. She stood up slowly and approached his desk, laying a hand on top of his and squeezing reassuringly. “I know this is hard to consider… but I think this is the next avenue we should pursue. We need to widen our search for data - get in contact with other countries.”

Alexei closed his eyes, squeezing her hand in return.

Yes. He knew the statistics very well. In cases of serial abductions, a new victim was never a good sign for any of the previous. It almost always signified that the kidnapper had killed the former and had moved on to new prey.

Volya’s probability of being found alive was approaching zero quicker and quicker every day, and if this was _indeed_ a case of serial kidnappings….

Alexei hadn’t wanted to consider it, and for good reason, but it seemed he had no choice now. The path before them was getting narrower by the day, all signs pointing towards this theory.

Yuuri’s phone and other personal affects had been sent off to a lab for both fingerprint and DNA analysis. It wouldn’t be long before they had the results. They had Kitagawa on file – they at least had procured that much from Volya’s case during the last investigation – and as soon as they found a match, it would be unequivocal evidence.

They would have to connect with the Japanese police again. They had tried last time, figuring that she had to be from Japan, but they hadn’t come up with any conclusive leads. The Japanese police informed them that, unfortunately, ‘ _Kitagawa_ ’ likely wasn’t her real name, or she simply wasn’t from Japan.

But they knew the name of her son now – Chulanont had told them that much. Perhaps with that information, they’d be able to find her now. And with Yuuri himself being from Japan, it only made sense to look there again.

“Ok,” he said with finality, pushing thoughts of Volya aside, “You’re absolutely right, Nina. Let’s get a move on. I’ll go ahead and email Mr. Tamaki so we can set something up.”

Mr. Tamaki was one of the best detectives in Japan and had been the investigative team’s source of contact for Volya’s case. From what Alexei had heard, he was a bit of an ornery, fussy man, but he would be their best chance if a path to Kitagawa existed; they’d just have to cater everything to his liking to keep him happy and willing to cooperate.

Nina retracted her hand. “Actually I-I already emailed him,” she said, a nervous smile across her face. “I figured that he’d be more friendly with me, seeing that I was the one who contacted him all those years ago. You weren’t even a detective at that point. A familiar face may make him more cooperative.”

Alexei startled. It was always strange for him to think about the circumstances of Volya’s case. Nina was right; he hadn’t been working as a detective yet. He was young, desperate to get involved. He had latched onto Nina, his childhood friend and newly minted detective, as his source of contact.

Familiar feelings of guilt swirled through him.

Nina… who had nearly lost her job because of him….

“Ah,” Alexei began, uncomfortable as always when this part of their past was unearthed, “and what did he say?”

“He said he’d be willing to talk via video chat at 13:30,” she responded. She hesitated before speaking again, lowering her voice considerably. “What do you want to do about Viktor?”

Alexei met her steady gaze, which had turned piercing again, challenging. It would be a huge violation of trust between international departments if they allowed Viktor to sit in on the conversation, even if he couldn’t be seen or heard. It would be outrageous if anyone ever found out, a scandal of epic proportions…

But hadn’t Alexei done the same thing just a few years back? He was so desperate for any kind of information on his brother, and he had a friend on the investigative team who was willing, despite the risks, to bring him up to speed.

But… but Nina ended up paying the price: probation and a permanent record for sharing classified information with a civilian. Alexei suddenly felt like a fraud. She should be the one sitting in this chair, with his office and his title.

_If it hadn’t been for him, she would be._

He didn’t want to make the same mistake again; it wouldn’t be fair to risk her job like this, not when she had already done so much for him.

“No. We won’t go down that road again. We’ll keep Viktor on a need to know basis, keep him informed only about the most critical pieces of information,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes with deference.

Nina’s back straightened; her face seemed to clear. She gave him a short nod.

“I agree. No need to make the same mistakes two times in a row, right?”

Alexei winced at the reminder of his gaff – the thing that nearly lost Nina her job. The slight smirk on her lips reassured him, though, that her barb was in jest.

She had already told him many times that she forgave him.

It was Alexei, though, that hadn’t really forgiven himself yet.

Nina started unpacking her laptop as Alexei stewed in his guilt. “It’s nearly time. Let’s get this set up early. We don’t want to keep Tamaki waiting…”

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit was tired of waiting - it was all he seemed to be doing lately.

Waiting for a call, a sign, any scrap of news. 

He had been checking the internet almost obsessively. It was the first thing he did every night before going to sleep and every day before getting out of bed. Part of him recognized that it had become a bit of a problem when he began oversleeping and missing classes and practice, but Phichit had pushed that thought out of his mind.

So, what if his health suffered a little? If he could be of any help at all, he would scour the internet until his eyes grew sticky and heavy with sleep, until his phone short circuited from overuse.

_Until Yuuri was found._

Phichit scrubbed at his eyes, weary not just from overuse, but from the dried tear tracks that prickled and warped his cheeks. The light from his phone shone out weakly into the room. It was nearly six in the morning. His roommate slept soundly across from him, happy and naïve in the very bed that Yuuri used to occupy.

And so, another night was over.

Another night lost to his overactive thoughts. Another night that Yuuri was gone.

(Another night wasted.)

Phichit closed his eyes in defeat, laying his phone on top of his chest. This was the second phone in the past month that he had bought. His previous phone usage wasn’t one to dismiss – he had to get the highest plans and unlimited data to accommodate it, but now… now his phone usage was through the roof.

He used it constantly; in class, in bed, even in the shower, putting the water proof case he recently acquired to good use. He found that this was necessary after absentmindedly taking his phone into the shower twice without thinking.

He set alerts on all major media sites across the globe. His phone would buzz on and off as recent articles were posted, and each time without fail, Phichit’s heart would race like the wings of a hummingbird.

He could never quite squash the slight hope, however insignificant, that the next article would proclaim that his friend had been found.

He refused to consider the flip side, the possibility of bad news.

Phichit opened his eyes wearily, staring at the wall across the room that used to occupy Yuuri’s collection of Viktor posters.

(Now there was just an empty wall.)

_Buzz!_

Phichit jumped as his phone vibrated against his chest. He grabbed it shakily, already feeling the telltale signs of growing excitement buzz through his body. He clicked on the link and began perusing the article, frowning as the unfamiliar characters of Chinese assaulted his gaze.

He copied the article and put it through a translator. Phichit settled into a more comfortable position in his bed, already anticipating some drab article about the spiraling economy or rising oil prices – which he had read enough of, thank you very much - but what met his eyes was something different.

Key words began jumping out: ‘kidnapping’, ‘body’, ‘murder weapon’.

Phichit sat up quickly, bringing the phone close to his face in desperation. The article documented a kidnapping case that occurred over ten years ago. A Chinese boy by the name of Ting Xue, age thirteen, was taken after he competed in a local skating competition, never to be found until now. His body, along with the murder weapon – some sort of grizzly, ornate knife – had both been recovered from the depths of a river underneath a bridge.

Phichit’s stomach curled as he continued to read. From what the investigators could tell, Xue had been violently stabbed with the weapon and pushed over the edge of the bridge. His cracked skull indicated that his head struck the rocky bottom of the river. Xue died from a combination of blood loss, head trauma, and finally, drowning.

Phichit reached the end of the article, breath picking up speed when no other information was offered.

Apparently, the kidnapper was never found; they remained at large to this day.

The author ended the article on a melancholy note, claiming that the family of the poor boy could finally find closure, but Phichit wasn’t reassured by any means.

His head began cycling with thoughts.

The kidnapper was still at large. The kidnapper. Ice skating.

_Yuuri._

This was all too similar.

Phichit’s fingers shook as he forwarded the article to Viktor, sending him a stream of messages that demanded that he read it as soon as he could. He knew Viktor was in direct contact with the detectives working on the case, so it wouldn’t be long until they received this.

Phichit lowered the phone against his heart, shaking madly.

He was so, so scared for his best friend.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to think happy thoughts amidst the chaos warring in his head.

Yuuri smiling. Yuuri laughing at his antics. Yuuri fawning like a ridiculous school girl over Viktor.

Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

How he wished to be close to him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's all water under the bridge, so to speak" the kidnapper said ... looks like her words had some foreshadowing to them, didn't it? 
> 
> *laughs evilly* 
> 
> Ah, this is getting so much fun to write! It's really starting to pick up now. FYI though, in the past there have been significant time jumps between chapters - sometimes a few days, sometimes a week. From now on, the time jumps will be much, much less. I'm talking like hours, or even no time jump at all. I'll try to make this clear as we proceed. 
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who has left comments or a kudos! I'm honestly overwhelmed with the response this fic has gotten - I started writing it originally just to get better, and look where we are now! 
> 
> Lastly, if you want updates on the status of the next chapter, you can find me on tumblr [here](https://katyaton.tumblr.com/). I post things for this fic under #cd and #cognitive dissonance. 
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts!


	9. Bottom of the Hour

“Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.”   
―  **Haruki Murakami** ,  **Dance Dance Dance**

 

**Chapter Nine: Bottom of the Hour**

The light shone through the windows of the skating rink, catching the ice and reflecting the occasional flash of a rainbow as Viktor skated by. Viktor was achingly familiar with this rink; with the errant sounds of the air conditioning system booting on and off, the distant sounds of traffic that occasionally filtered in, and the particular crunch of the ice under his skates, which he could swear was distinctive from any other rink he had frequented.

As such, Viktor could tell that this particular angle of the light signified the end of the afternoon practice session. It had to be nearly 14:00 at this point. Without even waiting for Yakov’s approval, (it wasn’t like he was planning on competing until Yuuri was found, anyway) Viktor slowed and began his warm down routine.

He skated long, slow circles around the rink, eyes scrunching when he passed over the patches of ice illuminated by the sun. Despite his earlier thinking, he had to admit that Yakov was right. He had desperately needed to take care of himself. He had thought that denying himself everything would be the best and most efficient way to find Yuuri, but that line of thinking had ended rather disastrously. Viktor had become so consumed, so obsessed with his singular preoccupation that he had even forgotten about Makkachin.

Of course, it _had_ been for good reason. Every second without Yuuri was another second Yuuri was scared and alone - or worse.  Viktor had devoted himself, mind, body, and spirit to the task of recovering his fiancé, but in the meantime, he had almost lost himself, as cliché as it sounded. It had taken a wakeup call from Yurio, of all people, to help him realize how far he had fallen.

Finding Yuuri was still his highest priority, but now he had perspective. He would be no use to Yuuri if he couldn’t even function himself.

Viktor continued to glide around the rink, frazzled mind somewhat at ease. Skating was the only thing nowadays that managed to calm the raging worries cycling through his head. Other things that he used to find enjoyable, like browsing the web or reading a book, always managed to sour as creeping thoughts and fears made themselves known. Skating, unlike anything else, gave him a short reprieve, allowed him to push his anxiety – because what else could it be but anxiety? – to the back of his mind.

Dealing with it all, the swelling of emotions and niggling curls of fear, was absolutely exhausting. If this was what Yuuri struggled with everyday . . . Well. Viktor had a new-found respect for him if that was the case. Viktor’s breathe caught in his throat. Yuuri was simply amazing, dealing with something like this all on his own for years. Viktor’s mind lingered on his many memories of Yuuri; his flushing cheeks, his doe-like eyes, that soft little smile reserved solely for him.

Yuuri.

_Oh, Yuuri._

Viktor’s breath picked up and his palms started sweating. He released a shaky breath, rubbing his hands against his pants to remove the moisture. He began inhaling slowly, trying to draw on some of the anxiety techniques he had witnessed Yuuri use before.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

Yuuri would be found, he told himself in a mantra, repeating this phrase until the violent panic in his mind tempered.

They were getting closer and closer every day; It couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \-  be long now.

Viktor ran his finger over his engagement ring in soothing motions as he continued to skate. It was simultaneously a constant reminder of Yuuri, refusing to let him forget about his abduction and his absence, and a source of great comfort. Every time Viktor stroked over its metallic smoothness, it reminded him of the lovely connection they shared. When he stroked it, he knew that the power of love, hallowed across generations and unfathomable in its intensity, would help them overcome.

Above all, it reminded Viktor that there was still hope.

Viktor’s breath slowed as the festering curl of fear lessened slightly. Yuuri’s own ring, which had been found in the bag along with his clothing and glasses, had been sent off to a lab for analysis. Viktor had initially protested, but after Alexei assured him that the items would be returned to him as soon as they were done, Viktor had acquiesced. Besides, at this point, they were set to get the results of the test tomorrow.

They would know for sure if Kitagawa was the true kidnapper.

“Oi, Viktor!”

The sudden call, familiar in its abrasive loudness, echoed across the rink. Viktor raised his head, coming face to face with an irate Yurio. He skated over Viktor in a furious huff, clutching something in his hand.

“Your goddamn phone has been beeping nonstop for the past ten minutes – I can’t concentrate!” Yurio scowled, shoving Viktor’s phone against his chest. “Either take care of it or I’m going to ram it into the ice!”

Viktor blinked slowly, taking in Yurio’s raised brows and incredulous expression. He looked down at the phone pressed against his chest as it buzzed incessantly, confirming the teen’s earlier claims. He grabbed the phone, smiling weakly at Yurio in return. He cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry about that Yurio. You know how it is after a long day of practice. Sometimes your mind just wanders!” he said loudly, trying to downplay his earlier worries.

Yurio crossed his arms, giving Viktor a searching look. Viktor knew Yurio was worried about him, and for good reason. After all, how could he not be, after he found Viktor in such a lowly state just a few days ago? Yurio had kept true to his promise, though, coming over every morning before practice, often times with food, claiming that he was only there to make sure that the mutt didn’t starve.

Viktor’s heart swelled every time he came over. In such a short time, he had grown to look forward to his daily visits. They chatted aimlessly during those mornings, sometimes dissolving into squabbles, which, if Viktor was being honest with himself, actually happened every five minutes or so. Still, despite this Yurio continued to come, continued to look out for him.

And Viktor was endlessly grateful for it.

Yurio released a puff of air. “You’re mind always wanders, old man, that’s nothing new,” he parroted back, though the way he continued to eye Viktor belied his poorly masked concern. Viktor smiled warmly at him, enjoying the light blush that dusted across Yurio’s cheeks as he realized he had been found out.

“With you around, though, I don’t think I really have to worry, do I?” he beseeched, clasped his hands to his chest.  “You’ll take care of me, won’t you Yurio? After all, I’m getting _so_ old,” he pouted, enjoying the teen’s rapidly souring face.

Yurio’s scowl depended as he began shouting. “S-shut up, geezer! Just take care of your goddamn phone so the rest of us can practice in peace!”

“Peace?” a deep, incredulous voice called out over the rink. “Yuri, I’ll have you know that I need absolute tranquility to practice my new short program. If you’re going to keep yelling at Viktor, I humbly request that you do it elsewhere.”

Ah, Georgi. Viktor had nearly forgotten how much of himself he put into each program. When he practiced his full routine, he required absolute quietness other than his soundtrack. It’s why Yakov had scheduled his practice after everyone else’s periodically.

Viktor hid his snickers behind his hand as Yurio squawked, sputtering and red and too furious for words. Viktor watched him for a few moments, then couldn’t help himself, tossing his head back in laughter. He could hear Yurio furiously skating away, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

Viktor’s laugh trailed off after a moment, his smile fading. He prodded his cheeks, which felt strangely stiff.

It had been over a month since he had last laughed that way. Not since… since Yuuri.

Viktor closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Despite what everyone had said, he continued to feel guilty every time he found some small modicum of joy. It twined and festered in his head like a constant reminder. It was always there, and refused to give Viktor a respite longer than a few minutes.

It reared its head now, raring and obtrusive. Viktor let the last vestiges of his smile leave his cheeks.

It was time to get back to work.

He unlocked his phone, startled when the top of the screen declared that he had fifty-one unread texts, seven voice mails, and five emails. Viktor thumbed through the notification screen.

They were all from Phichit Chulanont.

Viktor’s heart began pattering in his chest. It wasn’t unlike Phichit to send a multitude of messages, but not this many, and never in so many forms.

Viktor clicked on the texts, concluding that they would be the most efficient way to see what was going on.

_VIKTOR NIKIFOROV! WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING STOP AND READ THIS ARTICLE. SEND IT TO THE DETECTIVES ASAP!!!!_

_https://_ 中国新闻/河中发现十三岁男孩尸体.cn  

Viktor’s breathe hitched.

He stumbled over to the side of the rink, finding a seat on a bench before he dived into the article, hands already shaking in a combination of anticipation and dread.

Viktor clicked on the link, which asked if he wanted the article translated. He clicked ‘yes’ as quickly as he could, but the page seemed to take ages to load. Viktor’s leg bounced in agitation.

Once it loaded, Viktor wasted no time, devouring the article in under a minute. His eyes raced across the article, fixating on the image of the murder weapon: a grisly, ornate knife, rusted and degraded by years in the river, but unmistakably familiar.

It was one of her knives.

There was no other way to interpret this. Kitagawa must have taken others before –  Yuuri was just one of many that she had stolen away. And she had murdered one of them, which meant.... which meant she’d likely do the same -

He gasped, fingers loosening as the phone cluttered to the ground, smack echoing across the rink.

His brain flat lined.

He had to find Alexei and Nina as soon as possible; it seemed that Yuuri had even less time than they thought.

He barely registered the sounds of Georgi calling over to him, so entrenched in his mind he was. He woodenly bent down and grabbed his phone, speeding out of the rink to catch a cab. He sent the article to both detectives, frustratingly having to retype his message several times as his shaking fingers caught on the wrong letters.

He hailed down a cab, practically ripping the door off its hinges in his haste. He knew that Alexei and Nina had told him to come at 15:00, but they surely wouldn’t mind him coming earlier once they found out about the article.

He sat stiffly in the cab as the city blurred by, thumb tracing absentmindedly over his ring – their ring.  He started implementing some of Yuuri’s own breathing techniques as the anxiety festered like lead in his stomach, desperate to find himself grounded once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexei exhaled, fingers rapping against the hard wood of the table. He eyed the clock on the laptop.

13:29

It was almost time to talk to Tamaki.

Nina had already set up her laptop on the table and opened it up to the video feed. Alexei watched the clock, and almost as soon as it turned over to 13:30, an incoming call from Tamaki Taro flashed across the screen.

Right on time.

Alexei shared a brief look with Nina and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair. He accepted the call and an older man appeared on the screen. With his neatly trimmed beard and no-nonsense slate grey glasses, he had the aura of a respectable business man. He narrowed his eyes before speaking.

“Good afternoon detectives Barkova and Kozar,” he greeted in lightly accented English.

Alexei and Nina gave him a brief greeting in acknowledgement.

Tamaki nodded brusquely. “Now, I expect you’re eager to hear what I’ve found, so I’ll just skip all the formalities and jump right into it. It’s quite late for me over here and I need to be back home in time for dinner.”

Alexei nodded in acquiescence. He could appreciate a person that got to the root of the matter right away.

Tamaki leveled the two with a heady look before proceeding. “Now what I want you two to realize is that everything I found is preliminary. There are still more things that need to be done before I have all the information, however, I felt it necessary to tell you what I have uncovered so far.” Tamaki spoke in a careful, formal manner, as if he considered every word in extensive detail before speaking. It made Alexei even more reassured that if anyone could find information about Kitagawa, it would be this man.

“We understand, Mr. Tamaki. Please, tell us what you uncovered,” Nina replied. Alexei spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye. He had never seen her so still and reserved. The typical Nina was usually bursting with energy, clicking a pen or bouncing a leg to let some of it out. She had somehow managed to wrangle that energy in this time.

Tamaki leaned forward, eyes trained on Nina. “Very well, then. Here what I’ve found out.”

Tamaki wasted no more time and launched into the important details. Alexei leaned in closer to the screen the more the detective spoke, each detail bringing light in new areas he hadn’t considered.

Tamaki had given the name ‘Kitagawa’ a thorough search once again, attempting to correlate any woman of their description who had engaged in violent crimes, with an emphasis on kidnapping. And once again, no such woman matching these parameters was found.

What was interesting, though, was what was uncovered when Tamaki searched for a child with the name ‘Hoshito’. Per Nina’s instructions, he had looked for a child who had participated in ice skating and who matched the general appearance of both Volya and Yuuri. What he managed to find was rather shocking to say the least.

“I was able to find a child by the name of Kanbayashi Hoshito who lived in Fukuoka. He was just nine years old when he was murdered by his mother, a woman by the name of Kanbayashi Ko,” Tamaki spoke stiffly. The man showed little emotion as he said this, the only sign of his distress apparent through his clipped words. “I almost didn’t find this information - It had been heavily obscured, buried beneath layers of red tape. Kanbayashi Ko was charged with murder and was sentenced to the death penalty, but at the last second that was cancelled,” Tamaki said crisply, eyes darting between Alexei and Nina. “She was later transferred to a mental institution on the grounds of apparent schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.”

Alexei frowned, considering Tamaki’s words. It seemed like this woman could be a likely candidate, however, certain things weren’t sitting right with him. Just who exactly was this woman? And why was everything so hushed up about the case?

“I researched Kanbayashi’s family - both her husband’s and her own - to the best of my ability and found something intriguing. She comes from a very rich, very affluential family, one that, if my suspicions are right, would have easily had enough influence and wealth to bribe the right sources to keep her case quiet. I’ve been working in this field for a long time, and trust me, I’ve seen this type of thing from families who don’t want to let one rotten apple tarnish their reputation,” he explained.

Alexei found himself nodding as well. Yes. Even though Tamaki had decades of experience over him, Alexei had still come across this many times. Politicians, companies, even famous celebrities were extremely prone to this. It made detective work that much more difficult. Not impossible, no, but still more cumbersome.

“She also had a husband – a man named Kanbayashi Isao who fathered her son, Hoshito. Records indicate that he is still alive, yet I couldn’t find anything that linked him to the case other than his familial ties to the boy. It’s very possible that the woman’s family covered for him as well. As their former son in law, it would be imperative to keep him out of the public eye to keep their reputation.”

Tamaki quieted after speaking, giving Nina and Alexei time to digest his words.

Alexei nails scratched restlessly against the fabric of the chair. The more he found out about this woman, the more likely it seemed that she was indeed their culprit. The vast majority of killers were mentally unsound, and this woman had not only murdered her own child, a concept that Alexei himself could scarcely fathom, but she also had schizophrenia. They had already found out that Kitagawa, or Kanbayashi, if that truly was her actual name, was prone to changing her last name. It would make complete and utter sense that she would be the kidnapper.

Tamaki cleared his throat. “There’s just one problem, though.”

Nina leaned forward, leg beginning to bounce in her seat. “What is it?”

Tamaki gave them a grim smile. “There are records in the hospital that indicate that Kanbayashi Ko died ten years ago in the institution. I found her death certificate as well as records of a private funeral that was held.”

Alexei’s breath hitched. No. It couldn’t be. The pieces were finally starting to fit together! Nina cursed softly next to him, leg picking up in tempo.

“Kanbayashi Ko is no more alive than her son, Hoshito, and is no longer recognized as a citizen of the state in Japan,” Tamaki continued, dark eyes steady and unwavering, “As far as Japan is concerned, she’s as good as dead.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alexei and Nina sat in silence for several minutes after the video call with Tamaki.

It was just… a lot to take in.

Alexei knew that with cases, sometimes you had to take a few steps back before you could take some forward, but that still didn’t lessen the blow.

They were so close!

Alexei, like Tamaki, was convinced that she was still alive and had somehow escaped, but that did little when the state declared her deceased. They could still investigate her, yes, but it would just make it that much more difficult and time costly.

Alexei didn’t have that kind of time.

(Yuuri didn’t have that kind of time.)

Alexei released a long breath, already anticipating the hoops and hurdles Tamaki would have to jump through to find out more information. The man had said that he would continue to look for clues. In particular, he planned on focusing on Kanbayashi’s husband. Alexei knew it would be difficult. This whole case screamed of treachery and dishonesty. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the family was somehow tied into this whole scheme of lies and deceit. Convincing the family to talk to him would be… extremely difficult, he imagined.

Alexei grabbed his phone in his pocket, turning it back on. He in no way wanted to disturb their meeting, but in doing so he had apparently missed several calls. Alexei frowned.

They were all from Viktor Nikiforov.

He checked the time on the phone warily. It was only 14:12. Nina did say that they were meeting at 15:00, didn’t she?

He clicked on the most recent voice mail with mounting concern. He had gotten to know Viktor reasonably well over the course of this investigation. He was many things – forgetful at times, elusive with his true emotions, and relentless when it came to finding his fiancé, but he would never call him this much unless it was absolutely pressing. Alexei had given him this number, _his private investigative number_ , in absolute confidence. Viktor wouldn’t be calling unless it was something big.

Alexei brought the phone to his ear and listened:

_‘Alexei. I’m outside the police department right now. I’m about five minutes away from charging in despite the security clearances.’_

Viktor spoke with a quiet intensity, voice trembling. Alexei had to stain to hear all of it.

_‘I sent you an article. You have to read it right now. It has to do with Kitagawa, I know it does. Just-‘_

Viktor paused here and took a shaky breath.

_‘Just let me in as soon as you get this…. Oh, and by the way, you’re already down to three minutes before I charge in. Regardless of when you hear this, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon!_

Viktor ended the call on a false cheery note. Alexei cursed, already flying out of the office. He liked to think he knew Viktor pretty well as this point. When he said he’d barge in, Alexei was reasonably confident that _he would._ And oh god, Alexei did not want to get on the bad side of the security personnel, not again at least.

Alexei barreled down the hall rather ungracefully, and by the time he made it to the welcome lobby, he was embarrassingly huffing.

And oh.

It seemed he had made it just in time. Viktor was over by the corner, agitated and watching the security desk with a rapt interest, clearly debating the risks and benefits of just blowing past them.

“Viktor!” he called - or more like wheezed, really, but Alexei wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

Viktor turned, irritation smoothing into eagerness as he met his eyes. He ran up to Alexei.

“You’re here! Thank God! Did you look at the article -”

“Not here,” Alexei quickly shushed him, acutely aware of all the people within ear shot.

Viktor inhaled sharply, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nervously glanced around the room.

Alexei grabbed him by the upper arm and gave a nod to security before leading Viktor down the hall into his office. The walk to the office was silent and tense, and as soon as they closed his door, Viktor broke the tension.

“Did you read the article?”

Alexei threw him an exasperated look, having just recovered his breath. “No, of course not. I was too busy making sure you didn’t get banned from the station.”

Viktor flushed lightly while Nina, still sitting in the same spot from the video chat, spoke intensely.

“Viktor’s right Alexei. You really need to read it.”

Alexei’s irritation drained away at her pronouncement. Not saying a word, he clicked through his phone and found the link. It was a short article and took little time to read. As soon as he finished he looked up at the other two with wide eyes. Nina gave him a significant look. Alexei could tell what she was thinking. This practically confirmed their theory of serial kidnappings, especially with the image of the ornate knife – the apparent murder weapon – that the article featured.

“So… what do you think?” Viktor burst out, understandably agitated from the looks they gave each other.

Nina turned her full attention towards him and started speaking slowly and carefully. “Viktor. Alexei and I have been thinking…. We came up with a theory that seemed plausible, and now with the article, it’s practically confirmed.”

Viktor’s eyes widened before he rushed out a response. “You’re thinking that she’s kidnapped others besides my Yuuri,” Viktor said quickly, eyes flashing between the two.

Alexei wasn’t surprised that Viktor had come to the same conclusion. The similarities were striking, after all. And this boy, Xue, met the criteria that Nina had come up with earlier. He would be around Yuuri and Volya’s age if he were alive today and on top of that, he was an ice skater. The article didn’t feature a picture of the boy, but Alexei figured that as soon as he did a bit of researching and found one himself that the child would have an eerie likeness to the two.

Alexei would bet a lot on that assumption.

“Yes. That’s what we’re thinking, Viktor,” Alexei replied. He looked down at the article again, glancing at the image of the knife. “In fact, as soon as I compare the knife we have to this one here, I’m sure we’ll be able to link the two to the same artisan.”

Viktor shuddered out a breath at this statement. He began clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.

“You -” he began, voice cutting off with emotion. He swallowed and continued. “You know what this means, then, yes?”

Alexei nodded solemnly. The three exchanged nervous glances in the sudden silence of the office. The only sound that could be heard was the quiet ticking of the clock.

It was achingly apparent what Yuuri’s eventual fate would be.

They had made great strides so far, yes, but they were equally stumped when it came to locating the kidnapper and Yuuri. The only location she had been known to frequent was the Priozersk square once a month - No one had seen her anywhere outside of this market. Alexei had sent a few field agents there to patrol the area, regardless, but they had yet to report anything suspicious back.

They could always wait another few weeks for her return, but Alexei was beginning to think that Yuuri simply didn’t have that long.

This was understood by all three of them, yet none felt the need to voice it out loud. There was a visceral finality about the spoken word, Alexei thought solemnly.

Yes. Some things were better left unsaid.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri sat uneasily at the kitchen table, awaiting his breakfast with growing agitation. He had spent the majority of last night thinking up a plan to get her phone, losing a fair amount of sleep in the process. He knew she kept it on her person at all times and that wheedling it away from her would be rather difficult; However, he also knew how easily she let her emotions consume her, how they seemed to overcome her and fracture the cool façade she wore most of the time.

There were a few things that really set her off, but the one that garnered the greatest reaction was Hoshito’s father. Yuuri had avoided it out of self-preservation after seeing her reaction the first few times, but now it was necessary to bring up again.

Yuuri had been playing it up all morning, hugging the kidnapper as soon as she came in to wake him, smiling and following all of her orders without hesitation. Granted, these things weren’t particularly difficult to do, especially when those strange flutters of warmth arose every time she praised and held him close, but that was beside the point.

He had also spent a good portion of the night working through all the problems he had fallen behind on while sick. He had them at the table now, eager to show her how much of an excellent son he had been in the past few days.

His overall goal with these actions was simple; he wanted to butter her up, make her more receptive and willing to listen. After all, she had said that she’d show him the ice skating video on her phone if he behaved. And Yuuri knew that above anything, she wanted his obedience.

Well. He’d give her that, then, if that’s what it took.

His plan was simple from that point on: She’d sit down with him, they’d watch the video, and then Yuuri would casually bring up Hoshito’s father. He knew he’d get a rise out of her, even from a seemingly innocent question. Inevitably, she would spiral, going into a tirade. Yuuri hoped that in the confusion, she would be distracted enough to not notice him take her phone.

From then on, he didn’t really know what he’d do next. He could only hope that he’d be left alone long enough before she noticed its absence.

Yuuri shifted in his chair uneasily. He knew the plan wasn’t exactly… precise per say, but it was the best he could come up with in such a short amount of time.

The kidnapper was dishing up their food now, carrying it over to the table. She gave him a pat on the head after she set his food down, and again, Yuuri felt that foreign slither of guilt swell through him just at the thought of the betrayal he was about to do.

Yuuri stared down at the steaming oatmeal in silence, stomach curling at the idea of yet another meal of it. This, combined with the festering bubbles of guilt, did little to comfort him.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” the kidnapper voiced. Yuuri glanced up at her through the steam. Her head was titled. Her eyes; wide and penetrating.

Yuuri forced the feelings down, eager to get his plan in motion. He gave her a soft smile. “Nothing’s, wrong mother,” he said, picking up his spoon and gathering a pile of the oatmeal. “I’m just excited. I managed to finish all of my makeup work last night.”

As he said this he slid the workbooks over to her, shoving the bland oatmeal into his mouth for lack of anything else to do. Her eyes flashed interestingly as she picked up the top book, flipping through the pages until she found his most recent work. She made quiet humming sounds as she perused it. Yuuri waited in anticipation for a few moments, carding his spoon through the oatmeal, effectively creating two divided portions.

She lowered the book, the top of her eyes peering at him thoughtfully over the edge. “Why the sudden inspiration? You usually wait until the last minute to get your problems completed, and I did give you a several day extension on these to make up for your sick days.”

Yuuri dropped his spoon, forgetting about his meal for the time being. “I wanted to surprise you and thank you for all that you’ve done for me.”

She considered him for a moment then smiled slowly. Yuuri smiled hesitantly in return. She reached across the table and clasped his hand.

“I’m very pleased, dear. I’m so glad to see that you’re taking your education seriously.”

Yuuri’s hand twitched before he suddenly clasped hers, basking a little under her praise. She squeezed his hand in return before letting go and returning to her meal. Yuuri smiled to himself, blush dusting his cheeks. He looked down at this oatmeal again, picking up the spoon where it had fallen, blurring the lines between the two divided portions.

They ate in silence for several minutes before Yuuri blinked quickly, suddenly remembering his plan. That’s right… he had to get her phone. As much as his current emotions rebelled with it, he was still cognizant enough to know that it needed to be done.

At this point, Yuuri wasn’t sure if he wanted the kidnapper to be terribly punished for what she had done to him. Yes, it was illegal to kidnap someone, and yes, she had abused him a little bit, but now that Yuuri had gotten to know her and had seen the ghosts of her past that haunted her, he felt almost… sorry for her. He knew that it was necessary for him to escape, but at the same time he felt that if she had just gotten some help before all this had happened, she may not have turned out this way.

It was possible that he could try to downplay her crimes once he got free, even testify for her if it came down to it. The woman, to the best of her ability, had taken care of Yuuri, fed him, housed him, saved him from near death.

She couldn’t be all bad.

She had to have some mental problems as well, which Yuuri could sympathize with. His own anxiety managed to ensnare and cripple his mind like nothing else. She probably didn’t have anxiety herself, but he imagined that her mental affliction took over her mind in a similar fashion to his own anxiety.

Not feeling in control because of your mind was something he was achingly familiar with; he didn’t want her to be punished for the same thing.

Regardless, Yuuri knew he needed to move ahead with his plan; if he didn’t tell others what she was really like, who would?

With this in mind, Yuuri sat down his spoon and cleared his throat. “Mother...” he began hesitantly.

She glanced up from her bowl and met his eyes steadily. “Yes, what is it?”

“I was wondering if – if you might show me my ice skating video now. I’ve been on my best behavior the past two days. I’ve even managed to finish all of my work,” he said reasonably, feeling the small amount of pride well up inside.

She cocked her head to the side, lifting a hand and placing her index finger against her lip in consideration. Something in Yuuri’s chest lurched uncomfortably at the sight of this, for it reminded him suddenly and irrevocably of Viktor.

_Viktor…_

That, more than anything, was why he was going through with this plan. The fact that he had forgotten that, even for a second, struck an uncomfortable chord deep within. Deep pangs of longing stirred in his heart. He missed him so much, but if the plan worked, it hopefully wouldn’t be long until he saw him once more.

The kidnapper lowered her hand and shuffled in her robes, withdrawing her phone. She gave Yuuri a thin smile. “You _have_ been on exceptional behavior recently. This is what I like to see – to encourage.” She angled the phone in his direction, beckoning him forward with the flick of her wrist. “Come over by my side and we’ll watch it together.”

Yuuri preened under her praise, eagerly getting out of his chair and sliding it up next to hers. He settled into her side, and when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, he found himself leaning into her bulk. She held the phone out in front of him and pressed play.

Yuuri was used to watching himself on video. He had to do it after every performance, after all, but watching himself in this video felt almost… intrusive. Yuuri had stopped looking in the mirror for a while now, simply because it startled him how much he didn’t recognize himself. Watching the video brought forth a similar feeling. The man in this video was thin and weak, obviously struggling to stay afoot after each landing. His eyes and cheeks were rather gaunt. Overall, he appeared to radiate a kind of exhaustion through his entire body, which was strange, considering that Yuuri himself didn’t really feel that way presently.

She paused the video just after he failed to land his last jump, staring up into the sky at the distant plane on the horizon. The kidnapper squeezed him as she set the phone down.

“What do you think?” she asked speculatively, turning to look at him.

Yuuri opened his mouth, brow furrowing. “I don’t know, really. I almost didn’t recognize myself out there,” he responded truthfully.

She hummed quietly in response, squeezing him a little tighter to her chest. “Yes, I thought the same. Something was on your mind that day, Hoshito. You were very conflicted. However, I think it’s safe to say that you’ve managed to resolve whatever was going through your head. Am I correct?”

Yuuri’s brow cleared. What she said just now… well, it made a lot of sense. Yuuri found himself much more clearheaded than he remembered being that day. Yuuri nodded, angling his head up to look at her. Her eyes roved over his face, and after a heady moment, a large smile stretched across her face, eyes dancing.

“I’m glad.”

Yuuri smiled again and turned, glancing at the phone on the table. He had it right where he wanted it. Now all he had to do was separate her from it momentarily.

Here came the hard part.

Yuuri found his smile fading from his face as he contemplated his next move. He felt the kidnapper shift against him. He swallowed nervously before speaking.

“What do you think father would think about it?” he almost whispered.

The effect was immediate. Her whole body spasmed, jerking violently. She let out a hiss.

“Your father’s opinion,” she replied, voice heavy with venom, “is worth nothing. Nothing! You shouldn’t even consider thinking about him, Hoshito!”

As she stood up abruptly, Yuuri nearly found himself face planting into the table from her departure. He heaved himself up and looked at her. She was livid, pacing the kitchen like a rabid animal. The old, wooden floor boards creaked like a symphony under her heavy stomps. She began muttering madly, Yuuri only able to pick up a few phrases.

“That man,” she grumbled.

“Out to get…”

“Sleeping around…”

Yuuri watched her carefully, very aware that she left the phone on the table. How could he get her out of here?

He glanced at the clock on the counter. It was a few minutes away from 9:00, the time she left to go work in her shed.

He might be able to make this work.

Yuuri stood up slowly and stood in her path, placing his arms on her shoulders. “I’m sorry for bringing him up. Really, I am.” His voice shook. It was absolutely critical to get her out of here for a few moments. He couldn’t mess this up. “Why don’t you –“he began, cutting off when she leveled him an icy glare. He tried again. “Why don’t you go outside to your shed. It’ll help clear your mind, right?”

Her glare deepened, and for a moment, Yuuri was seriously scared that she was going to hit him, but before that happened she stormed out of the kitchen, the back door banging behind her.

Yuuri watched the door for a few moments, terrified and excited at the same time. He counted to ten, and when she didn’t return, he flew to her phone, opening it up and typing into her browser. Yuuri figured sending a text or calling anyone would be too risky. If anyone happened to reply or she noticed the call in the history or billing statement, it would be over. With that in mind, Yuuri knew that emailing someone would be his best bet. He’d just erase the browser history afterwards, and everything would be ok.

Yuuri jumped violently when he heard a bang against the house. He froze where he sat, expecting her to come charging in at any moment. However, that never occurred. Instead, he began hearing the sounds of her outside, mumbling and raving.

It appeared she hadn’t gone to the shed after all.

Yuuri returned to the phone shakily. He didn’t have his guaranteed hour, then. She could come in at any moment. He typed in his email and waited anxiously. The little spiral at the top of the phone indicated that it was loading, but it was taking so long.

Sweat trickled down his brow. He began to feel queasy with dread. The screen of the phone began shaking.

‘Bang!’

The house thudded again as an object struck the house. Yuuri cursed under his breath as he stared at the loading symbol.

 _Please, please load_ , he thought fervently, staring at the screen with mounting fear.

The house shook again, this time louder, barely masking the sounds of her shouts.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Yuuri nearly cried out in joy when the screen finally loaded. He typed in his email and password in a haze and waited for it to load a final time. Yuuri continued to shake, tremors transmitting down to the phone. It made it rather difficult to type in the first email he could think of in his panicking state. He attached the video, not even leaving any sort of explanation in the message, and clicked the send button.

Yuuri exhaled shakily when the confirmation came through indicating that the send was successful, but it was short lived when the door handle started shaking. Yuuri nearly screamed, and before he even had a chance to erase the history, he exited out of the search engine and threw the phone on the table.

The kidnapper entered through the door, eyes crazed and hands clenching. She gave Yuuri a piercing stare and strode forward, grabbing her phone and exiting out of the house in a flurry of motion. Yuuri watched her go, a horrible, hollow feeling welling within.

She hadn’t seen him on her phone. He was safe, for now.

But it would be so, so easy for her to click into her search engine app, and as soon as she did, she would know what Yuuri did. The email was still there, the damning video attached for any to see.

Once that happened, and Yuuri knew it was simply inevitable at this point, he really didn’t want to know what his fate would be.

He could only wait as this point. Wait, hope, and pray to any god that would listen that they’d find him in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the details are finally starting to come together...
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter! It ended up being the longest one yet. The characters just had too much to say, and for good reason! There's certainly a lot going down right now.
> 
> Thanks to all of those who follow me on tumblr for putting up with the late release date. Sometimes life gets a bit busy, so thanks for being understanding!
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts!!!


	10. In Remembrance

“Your parents leave you too soon and your kids and spouse come along late, but your siblings know you when you are in your most inchoate form.”

 **\- Jeffrey Kluger**  
  


 

**Chapter 10: In Remembrance**

Mari stared absentmindedly down at the notepad, unfocused eyes blurring the neatly defined lines together. The pen rested against the start of the page, little pin pricks of ink dotting the paper where it rested.

She blinked her eyes slowly, frowning as the muted sounds of the onsen filtered into her consciousness sporadically.

It must have been a while since she’d had her last cigarette. She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to glance up and address the customer in front of her.

He wasn’t a native, as was apparent by his obvious confusion with the menu. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he trailed a finger down the paper, mouthing silently along with the kanji.

Ugh. It was way too late to deal with this.

This near to closing time, most decent guests wouldn’t bother ordering anything. This man, however, had no such foresight and felt the need to order something that would likely take _at least_ fifteen minutes to prepare. The sitting area was empty except for the foreigner, silence broken only by the sound of his light hums.

Mari cleared her throat and spoke with her most pleasant tone, which wasn’t remarkably convincing, but, given the late hour, it was the best this man was going to get.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

He narrowed his eyes as his finger stilled half way down the menu. He cocked his head and began speaking, choosing not to meet her gaze.  

“Hmm. Ye- yes I think so. This d-dish you have here…” the man stuttered out.

Oh jeeze. He was clearly one of those nervous types. Mari held in a sigh and leaned over the man’s menu; she didn’t get payed enough for this.

She startled when her gaze landed on the familiar sight of Yuuri smiling serenely on the menu, arms outstretched as he skated through a routine Mari no longer recalled. Her heart did an uncomfortable little lurch as she gazed at him. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

Yuuri’s absence was felt heavily all throughout Japan, but Hatsetsu especially. There hadn’t been a night where the news didn’t feature an update on his kidnapping. Yuuri was a celebrity married to an arguably bigger celebrity – there was no way his kidnapping wouldn’t be on everyone’s mind.

Mari swallowed down the rising bile in her throat. She glanced at the clock on the wall – only twenty more minutes until the kitchen and sitting room was closed for the night.

She only had to hold on until then.

Mari met the stranger’s gaze, his large eyes magnified rather ridiculously behind square framed glasses. The man lips quirked into a small smile as he regarded Mari for a few seconds before returning to the menu.

“Yuuri’s K-Katsudon – a house s-s-special,” he spoke slowly, smile growing larger despite his stutters. “Yes, I-I think that’s w-what I’ll have.”

A flash of annoyance licked through Mari. Everyone, even the foreigners, knew better than to order that dish. It was a polite gesture that acknowledged Yuuri’s absence. This man was the first person to have the gall to disregard that unspoken rule and order it right out.

She swallowed the instinctual expletive at the last second, closed her eyes briefly, then clicked her pen and began writing woodenly.

“Anything else?”

The man set the menu down on the table with a smack, breaking the relative calm. “No. That’ll be all f-f-for me, thank you,” he simpered.

Mari gave him a tight smile and swiped the menu off his table before trudging back to the kitchen.

“Are you related to Yuuri?”

The question came out clear and strong, no sign of his earlier nervousness or stuttering apparent.

Mari halted, hand just touching the wood of the door that lead into the kitchen; her shoulders tensed as her earlier annoyance heightened.

_That bastard._

He must be a reporter, likely fishing for information about Yuuri and his family - he wouldn’t be the first. The first week that Yuuri was gone, when the news was featuring his story every hour, Mari and her parents had been forced to kick out hordes of reporters each day.

They were all scum, as far as Mari was concerned, desperate to get even a sliver of news about the grieving Katsuki family. No one had the _right_ to be privy to their pain - the late hours spent in silence over dinner, everyone achingly aware of the empty seating place. No one could possibly understand the soul sucking fear that swirled all around the onsen like a blanket, chocking and stifling in its never ceasing presence.

No one had any right to these details, especially some foreigner who appeared to lack a shred of decency.

She turned around swiftly and leveled a glare at the man. He had a deceptively innocent expression on his face, large eyes emanating a false innocence.

She marched up to him, hands curled into fists. She’d deck the bastard right then and there if only her parents weren’t so uptight about customer hospitality. As far as she was concerned, this man deserved no more of their service.

“Look. I don’t know who you are – you could be royalty for all I care – but if you really think you can come in here and start asking questions about Yuuri then you’ve got another thing coming,” she said lowly, leaning down into the man’s space. She had to hand it to him - he didn’t appear intimidated by her, which was saying something because Mari had been known to strike fear in the hearts of others just by glaring at them. Years of protecting her baby brother from bullies had sculpted her glare into a terrifying work of art.

The man’s large eyes blinked owlishly behind those large frames; his clasped hands twitched against the wooden table.

“It… It seems I have m-misspoken,” he began, nervous tone back in his voice. “I didn’t mean to ups-s-set you, dear. I just want to order this d-dish.” He held his hands up in a placating manner. “T-that’s all.”

Mari scanned his face for a few moments, not convinced by his act at all. He had to be a reporter – what else could he be? And this little act of his was just a shoddy attempt at innocence, and now that he knew he had been found out, he was desperately trying to save face.

She had the nerve to throw him out right there.

But…

She eyed the bulging wallet that rested on the table nearby.

He was a paying customer – a rich one by the looks of it -- and he had booked a room at the inn for several days. She swallowed painfully.

They were a bit tight on cash … and it would only be for a few days anyway…

She exhaled forcefully. “Yeah … Yeah, whatever,” she conceded. The man visibly perked up.

 “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes with the dish, but at that point the sitting room will be closed. I’ll have to ask you to take your food elsewhere.”

“Ah, t-thank you, dear. I-I just want to –“

She turned around and marched off as he spoke, desperate to get away from any more of his pacifications; his stutters cut off with the smack of the wooden door.

Mari stood in the kitchen for a moment, eyes closed as she tried to reset. Had it really been just over a month since she’d last made this dish? It had to be longer than that, surely. There was no way that a singular month could fit all the days of anguish, fear, and desperation; the endless nights of sleeplessness, never ending news reports on every channel, the constant fears that festered and rotted in their minds.

No amount of time could quantify this pain.

She opened her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the wetness that had gathered at their corners. She allowed herself one moment of weakness every day, and no more than that. If she really allowed herself to succumb to it, she’d end up like her parents – listless and unable to get any work done. Most days they simply stayed in their room, too caught up in everything to come out. On good days, Mari would give them easier jobs, like laundry or the reception desk, but the majority of the time Mari was on her own.

If she didn’t keep it together and keep this family running, who would?

She exhaled one more time, shoving those thoughts down with force. She only had to hold on for a few more minutes, she told herself.

She began preparing the meat, desperately ignoring the icy tendril coursing through her mind like a weed.

Yes. It was only a few more minutes for today, but in the face of all this uncertainty and fear, just how many more times would she have to repeat this mantra until her baby brother was found?

Days? Weeks? Months?

Some things were just too much to contemplate all at once.

 

* * *

 

 

Mari leaned against the side of the building, staring blankly up at the night sky. The smoke of her cigarette swirled around her, lazily floating up and dissipating into the wind.

She had just given the man his meal and directed him to the bedrooms. By this point in the night she should be going through closing procedures, but she really just needed a moment to decompress. She squinted up at the blurry stars in the night sky, trying to see what others found so fascinating in them. Yuuri had always liked the stars, saying that it was amazing that there was so much out there - so much that they didn’t know.

Mari understood that, yes, but it was a little hard to get caught up in what seemed like fantasy – because that’s really all those blurry lights represented to her – when there was so much to do back on Earth.

In reality. 

Mari continued to scan the night sky, only relaxing when she finally found the one constellation she was searching for.

Ah, there it was.

Ursa Major.

During one of rare times that Yuuri managed to Skype or call home during his college days, Mari remembered him talking about the astronomy club. He was rather excited about the whole thing, eyes shining and arms flapping as he recalled the latest news, actions doing far more to express his enthusiasm than his words.

Yuuri had once told them to look for Ursa Major in the night sky – one of the easier constellations to find. He’d stated that as long as you could find that cluster, you’d eventually be able to find all others.

Mari stared intently at it now, searching for something indefinable. Did Yuuri get the chance to look at it now? Was he even still in Russia? In the same hemisphere? He could be seeing a completely different set of stars for all she knew….

_Oh, Yuuri._

Mari closed her eyes and took a long drag of her cigarette, eager for its promised relief. Her other hand trailed down to the phone in her pocket, and, almost unconsciously, she fished it out and began browsing various sites. Like Yuuri, she wasn’t huge on social media, but that didn’t mean she didn’t at least check it out now and then. Phichit Chulanont was her main source of news, and after the boy had called them several weeks back, anxious for news about Yuuri, she had grown a sort of soft spot for him.

Ever since then, she’d been checking up on him now and then.

But recently, his posts had been few and far between. She scrolled through his twitter. There was only one post yesterday - a rather strange tweet saying that he’d missed all his classes. It was obviously meant to be humorous, but Mari couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at the tweet.

It was clear that she and her family weren’t the only ones affected by his absence.

She exited the app and signed into her mail account. It wasn’t like she got much other than spam, but checking it frequently had become a habit ever since Yuuri had started living abroad.

She scrolled through the junk mail, eyes glazing over a bit. One email, though, made her do a double take, scrolling back up to stare at the words glowing up at her.

The cigarette dropped from her slack fingers.

_Katsuki Yuuri ………… (no subject) ……….. 15:03_

Her hands started shaking; this had to be some sort of …. sick joke. Her eyes trailed over the characters of his name, blinking quickly as wetness beaded at the corner of her eyes again. She wouldn’t put it past some creep to send her something like this….

And yet.

There was something about tonight – call it fate if you must – but Mari could almost feel the headiness in the air. She glanced up at Ursa Major.

It twinkled down at her.

She exhaled forcefully. Well, fine. If the goddamn stars were telling her to click it, she supposed she had no choice.

Mari opened up the email, eyebrows furrowing when she discovered no message, only a video attachment…

This could be bad.

She sat down slowly and leaned against the onsen wall, preparing herself for whatever could be on here, no matter how sickening. She clicked the video icon and waited for it to load.

She braced herself for anything. After watching so many crime shows, she thought herself to be rather well versed with the psyche of the criminal mind.

Should’ve known better.

It was much, much worse.

Her-her baby brother was on screen, malnourished, thin, and weary, but unmistakably him. Mari’s body began shaking, and it was a good thing she was sitting down, because her entire being felt weak and wobbly. Though anything else would be more pleasant, she forced herself to watch it all the way through, concern spiking when she saw the last part of the video.

Surely the kidnapper wasn’t doing what she thought she was doing….

Her breathe hitched as she finished the video in its entirety.

Oh, god.

_She was…_

Mari began cursing, not even bothering to concern herself with decency. This was too much. He didn’t deserve this, oh god fucking dammit, he didn’t fucking deserve any of this!

It wasn’t until she was standing up that she realized her cursing had turned into shouting. She quieted, glaring at the night sky in defiance.

There was really no point in putting hope in fantasies so far out of reach.

No. Here and now is what everyone had to live with. Reality was a cruel, cruel being, and the stars were just a facade – they could offer her no more solace than the bedtime stories that her mother used to regale her with so long ago.

Mari clenched her phone with a renewed purpose, forwarding the email to anyone who could do something about this. She and her family were in contact with the head detective working on this case – a man named Alexei Kozar. Though recently, another detective, a Japanese man named Tamaki Taro, had contacted them as well. She hashed out a quick description of Yuuri’s email in her message – the time it was sent, the lack of message, and the fact that apparently, Yuuri himself had sent it.

He must have taken a big risk sending it out from his personal email. She could only hope that her baby brother knew what he was doing…

“That’s q-quite the shocking video you’ve g-got there.”

Mari gasped, phone slipping out of her hands and falling to the concrete with a smack. She spun around, arms raised in defense.

The man from earlier stood in the doorway, half of his body illuminated by the light shining from the entry way. His glasses glinted in the light, making it impossible to see his eyes.

Mari stood her ground. Like _hell_ was she going to be taken down by some weedy reporter.

“What do you want?”

He moved closer to her, light roving across his face until he was fully in the shadows; only a few feet away from her.

“You must be d-desperate to get your b-b-brother back, right?” he asked, completely ignoring her question.

“How do you know I’m his sister?” she countered. Just minutes ago the man had been asking if she was even related, after all.

He was silent after she spoke, but Mari waited patiently. She’d wait all night if that’s what it took to expose this man’s façade. They were at a stalemate and Mari would keel over before she allowed this man the upper hand.

After a few moments, his small little smile fell. Wrinkles began settling in around the corners of his mouth and eyes.

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

“Let’s drop the act, then, yes?”

Mari leveled him an unimpressed look. “What do you actually want?”

He gave her a tight smile. “It’s simple. I want what you want: Yuuri safe at home, and the kidnapper brought to justice. I think we can cooperate in this instance, seeing as our goals line up.”

Mari’s skepticism only grew. Without responding, she reached into her cigarette box and lite another, making the man wait for an uncomfortable amount of time. Her internal smile was vindictive as she heard him shuffle in agitation as the seconds passed.

She brought the cigarette to her mouth and took a long drag, exhaling a puff of smoke in the man’s face before she delivered her response.

“And what, exactly, can you offer us?”

When the smoke cleared, the man was a few feet closer to her. His eyes glinted in the weak light.

“I know who kidnapped Yuuri. I can give you all the information you’d ever need about her – where she lived, her lifelong struggle with mental illness … even background on her family.”

It sounded too good to be true… besides, how could she trust this guy? Her suspicion must have shown on her face, because the man continued to talk.

“I know what you must be thinking. How can you believe me, right?”

Mari said nothing. The man smiled and reached into his wallet, holding out a picture for her inspection.

It was one of those cheesy family photos that people took at professional photography studios. Three figures were present. A younger version of the man was there, easily identifiable by his large frames. The two other figures were a woman and a young child. The boy was just a toddler if Mari was right. And the woman…

Oh god.

That was the same woman from the video; the same woman who had kidnapped her little brother.

She met the man’s eyes slowly, fear rising.

“You see? I know her quite well, in fact. I could tell you and the detectives all they need,” he leered.

Mari frowned. There was always, _always_ some sort of cost for a deal like this.

“And what’s in it for you?”

The man straitened up and smiled slowly, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s very simple, like I said. All you and the detectives would have to do is pardon me for my earlier crimes, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”

He held out his hand in the divide between them. Mari stared at it for a few seconds, then glanced up.

“At least tell me your name.”

His smile turned into a smirk. He chuckled softly, hand still held out in front of him.

“Very well, then. My name is Kanbayashi Isao. Will you take me up on this deal, Katsuki Mari?”

Mari bit the inside of her cheek, eyes flicking back and forth between his hand and glittering eyes. She reached out and slowly clasped his hand, pumping it up and down with a resolute finality. It felt eerily like making a deal with the devil himself, but in that moment, with the false illusion of the stars twinkling above her and her brother trapped in unknown lands, the reality of the situation was all she had to go on.

Reality could be so cruel sometimes.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexei's eyes widened as he brought the laptop’s screen closer to his face. A boy’s face smiled back at him, dark hair and glasses undeniable. The child held up a medal in the photo, smiling so wide that his glasses appeared to be slipping off his face.

Alexei scanned the caption of the photo.

_Kyung-ho Tae (11 years old) accepts his first-place medal in his junior regional qualifier in men’s figure skating. Taken just a day before his kidnapping, this is the last photo that exists of the child._

It seemed they had found another victim of Kitagawa’s – a Korean boy this time. This article had been published years ago. Just like Volya, it seemed this case had run cold, shelved due to lack of leads. This was the last article Alexei could find regarding Kyung-ho.

Alexei clenched his fists.

He would send this woman – this demon – to hell if it was the last thing he did. Her crimes had been going on for far too long. This may not be the last of her victims, either; there was no way they’d know until they captured her and questioned her.

Because of this, it was critical they captured her alive. As much as Alexei wanted to gun her down the moment they found her, he knew he’d have to show some restraint. If there was any chance they could find the other victims, Alexei would hold back, even if it meant keeping the demon alive for a bit longer.

“Nina, Viktor. You better come over here and look at this.”

The two lifted their heads from their own laptops. The three had spent the past several hours using international police databases to search for any clues about Kanbayashi and her family. Alexei had started looking for possible victims of hers that matched her previous ones, and after a bit of searching, had come across Kyung-ho.

He matched the previous victims in every facet: same age, same appearance, an ice skater…

Even though the case had gone cold years ago, Alexei was sure that this was another one of her victims.

Nina and Viktor crowded around the laptop and Alexei shuffled back to give them room to read.

“Christ…” Nina murmured. She stepped back and shook her head, giving Alexei a beseeching look. “Just how many more of them are out there?”

Alexei shook his head in silence. That was the big question, wasn’t it? Until they captured the kidnapper, there was no way to know if she had any more victims.

Viktor remained hunched over the laptop. Alexei watched him wearily. The past day hadn’t agreed with him. After finding the article with Xue, the Chinese boy, Viktor had been much more closed off. Alexei thought he understood the problem.

It was one thing to think that your loved one was in danger, and an entirely different thing to have that suspicion confirmed. To find out that the kidnapper was willing to murder, and murder brutally at that, had to eat away at him.

Viktor had come in just a few minutes after Alexei this morning, eager to help in any way possible. Normally Alexei would have been a little incensed - Viktor had arrived two hours early, after all – but after seeing his red eyes and desperate expression, Alexei had conceded.

Besides, he came barring coffee. Alexei would have been an idiot to turn him away at that point.

Viktor’s back looked quite tense and still. Alexei walked up slowly, hesitating only slightly before placing his hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly.

 “It won’t be much longer, Viktor; I’m sure of it. We’re so close. We just need that final clue to –”

He stopped abruptly when Viktor’s fist banged against the wooden table. Alexei retracted his hand from his quivering back.

The only sound that could be heard was the wheeze of the heating system and Viktor’s choppy breaths.

“Yuuri doesn’t have enough time for that,” Viktor bit out, head hung low and bangs spilling into his face.

Alexei breathed in slowly, not at all surprised that it had come to this. Viktor had been acting off all morning; he figured that whatever was keeping him bogged down would come to a head eventually.

“I know how you feel, Viktor,” he began, voice subdued. “I feel this way everyday with … with Volya. You just have to keep in mind that -”

Viktor turned around in a flurry. He regarded Alexei with a cool and taunting expression. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? Volya’s as good as dead at this point. You basically said so yourself when you went over the kidnapping statistics with me.” Viktor spoke sharply, yet his anger wasn’t loud and invasive; it was one of those quiet angers that left anyone under its influence struck still.

Alexei felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He heard Nina suck in a sharp breath. Viktor continued, despite their reaction.

“I’m tired of waiting around for things to happen – going out and looking for him is no guarantee, but it’s a right better sight than sitting here and waiting. I don’t care that we don’t know where she has him. I’m going back to Priozersk to look for him. If you feel like joining me, great, just don’t expect me to sit here safe and sound while my Yuuri is going through god knows what.”

Viktor breathed deeply in the silence, eyes darting back and forth between the two. Alexei regarded him fiercely.

“I get what you’re saying Viktor,” he repeated icily, holding up a hand when Viktor opened his mouth again. “We won’t stop you if you choose to continue on your own. Feel free. However, you have to understand that we won’t give you any more private details about the case at that point. You understand, yes?”

Viktor’s furious expression flicked as he processed the words.

“Additionally,” he continued, voice dropping an octave, “if you ever talk about my brother that way again …” he trailed off, clenched fists and heady look filling in the rest of the sentence.

Viktor’s face slowly transformed, anger dissipating into shock. “I-I didn’t mean that,” he whispered, eyes widening. “You know I didn’t mean that.” His voice wavered.  “I … sometimes I say things without thinking. I’m – I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to drag him into this,” Viktor sniffed, bottom lip trembling. “It’s just that – this past day has been really hard on me.” Viktor wiped the corner of his eye in frustration. He looked at the two detectives mournfully.

“It seems like everything is coming together while simultaneously falling apart.”

And wasn’t that an apt description? Alexei felt his anger dwindle. He couldn’t exactly fault Viktor for feeling this way when he had lashed out at Nina so similarly all those years ago.

Alexei released a puff of air. “It’s ok, Viktor. I-we understand.” He looked to Nina for confirmation. She gave him one of those assessing looks she’d been doing in increasing frequency before smiling slightly and nodding.

Alexei looked at Viktor once more who appeared a bit more collected after his statement. There was something that still needed to be addressed.

“But the fact still remains … What are you planning on doing now, Viktor?”

Viktor jolted at the question. His brow furrowed as he opened his mouth, yet no sound came out. Alexei waited patiently, expecting him to walk out of the door any minute.

_Ping!_

Everyone turned to the laptop at the sound. Alexei shuffled forward, easily recognizing the sound of an incoming email. His eyes narrowed when he saw the sender.

Mari Katsuki.

They’d had minimal contact over the past month. Alexei had initially given the Katsuki family his contact information in an email, and since then, he’d only sent rudimentary updates on the case. But Mari had never been the one to contact him.

Alexei clicked into the email and read her brief statement, eyebrows rising in incredulity.

“Viktor … Nina … you better look at this,” he said for the second time that day.

Viktor sprung forward. “What? What is it?”

Alexei shook his head silently and clicked on the video, letting it do the talking for him. The silence of the office was broken when the video started. It … oh god, Mari was right. There was Yuuri– or what appeared to be Yuuri.

Alexei had only ever seen the provided pictures of him, not this version … No, never this version.

His skin was an unhealthy, grey color. His hair had grown out a bit, curling around his ears, but the length only made his gaunt face appear even more withdrawn. Alexei could tell just from this cursory glance that his knees were shaking, likely from a combination of fear and exhaustion. And his eyes …

_Oh, his eyes._

They were sunken, rimmed with dark circles, but that wasn’t the most concerning thing about them. What really struck Alexei was the emotion behind them, or really, the _lack_ of emotion. He shivered when Yuuri made eye contact with the person behind the screen.

There was no better way to describe it; his eyes were dead.

“Yuuri … Oh … Oh god!” Viktor exclaimed. He launched forward, bumping into Alexei and blocking his view of the video. When Alexei righted himself, Viktor’s face was only a few inches away from the screen.

“Viktor!” Nina tugged harshly on him, pulling him back from the screen so they could all see. She kept her arms around him, though, not releasing him from her hold.

When they focused on the video again, the person behind the video had started speaking.

“… ready, Hoshito? I’d like to see one of your past performances…” they spoke, trailing off. A flicker of emotion passed across Yuuri’s face at the statement, but Alexei’s eyes widened for another reason. They had just referred to Yuuri as Hoshito …

“Ah, how about you perform  _Solitudinem_ ; it’s perhaps my favorite piece of yours,” she continued “and rather fitting now, isn’t it?”

Yuuri’s face crumpled. He shuffled on the ice uneasily.

Viktor whimpered, repeating Yuuri’s name over and over under his breath. He gripped the edge of the desk so tightly that Alexei could see the whiteness of his knuckles.

They watched as they kidnapper spoke with mounting anger, sliding closer to Yuuri who simply stood there in silence, head hung over as he trembled. The kidnapper snatched Yuuri’s chin, forcing him to look up. The kidnapper tilted the camera, capturing the side of their face.

And oh.

It was her all right; it was Kitagawa. Alexei would recognize that face from any angle, at any age. He lowered his head in anger, practically shooting lasers into the screen in his intensity.

“I won’t ask you again,” she spoke, and to Alexei, her voice sounded like metal. “Skate for me.”

Yuuri’s face flickered after her demand and … and it was subtle, but something seemed to shift in his expression. His eyes cleared of emotion, his face smoothed out. It was eerie to watch,  like he had drained himself of all thought and emotion.

Viktor began sobbing. The table creaked as he rocked back and forth. Nina continued to hold him, and after a moment, Viktor released the table and clutched her to his chest, though he kept his eyes on the screen.

Alexei imagined that if he picked up on the sudden change, then someone like Viktor, who actually knew him, would have picked up on it as well.

They continued to watch the damning thing, as much as it hurt; they simply had no choice. Yuuri skated around, and from what Alexei had heard about his past performances, what he was doing now was rather pitiful. He didn’t attempt anything more than little hops for jumps. Every time he landed was precarious. Alexei found himself holding his breath with every landing.

This lasted for a few painful minutes until he finally fell. He landed roughly, rolling onto his back until he stilled. The camera shook in agitation as it fixated on his small form. Quiet mutters started transmitting through the screen.

“… misbehaving…”

“… the defiance of that boy … “

“… teach …. lesson.”

Alexei’s skin crawled as her quiet raving continued. Her voice was rough, calloused; chilling. The statements were clearly the ramblings of someone who wasn’t quite right in the head.

Eventually, Kitagawa lowered the screen to the ice and Yuuri’s prone form disappeared from view. She began skating backwards and halted after several feet.

The video blurred a little as the camera tried to focus on the new image. Alexei squinted as it came into view.

There was a slight crack in the ice. Mari had said in the email that the kidnapper had done something very alarming near the end of the video.

Could this be … ?

The camera shook when the edge of her skate came into view. It began striking against the crack, and with every smack, the fracture in the ice grew in size.

Alexei flinched as a realization trickled across his mind. Oh no. She couldn’t be …

“Fucking Christ! Oh, God! Yuuri!” Viktor wailed, crumpling to the ground. Nina huffed as she landed next to him.

Alexei closed his eyes, a dark symphony playing in his head; the smack of the skate against the ice, Viktor’s choked wails, Nina’s soft murmurs, the wheeze of the heating system …

When Alexei opened his eyes again, the video had ended.

He … he didn’t know what to think.

Clearly, Nina didn’t either. She looked up at Alexei forlornly, cradling a distraught Viktor in her arms. Alexei took a seat in front of the video, preparing himself for another run through.

It was a habit of his – to watch a video several times through without taking notes. It allowed him to process it fully before he began pausing the video frame by frame, roving for any minute detail. Alexei reset the slider on the video, and when it started again, his earlier emotion had cleared from his face.

He had to treat this case like any other; he couldn’t allow his emotions to cloud his judgement, even if things were really coming to a head now.

That was what he told himself as it started, but when Kitagawa moved closer to Yuuri and grabbed his chin again, he found himself throwing everything out the window.

Those glasses.

They … they were … !

Alexei started shaking, a whine escaping despite his best effort. He brought a hand to his mouth before pausing the video on Yuuri’s distraught face.

There was no denying it.

Those glasses – red, rectangular frames with a crack on the right lens.

They were Volya’s.

Alexei could remember the day they got that crack – it was his fault, after all. He was so different back then. He had been so foolhardy, so reckless.

He remembered the day like it was yesterday, rather than seven years ago. He closed his eyes as a memory flashed across his mind, taking him back …

 

*

It was a chilly day in St. Petersburg, but that didn’t deter the two brothers. They glided across the quiet back road that had frozen over and iced the night before. The older boy, about twenty-one at the time, laughed jovially as the younger boy trailed behind him.

“Your frilly little ice skating has nothing on the power of ice hockey!” the older boy called.

The younger boy huffed in response, struggling as he tried to catch up to his brother.

“You know I just started skating! Of course I’m not going to be as good as you,” he muttered, barely keeping his balance as he hit a rough patch in the street. He righted himself after gyrating for a moment, exhaling forcefully and leveling his brother an icy glare.

“And ice skating isn’t frilly - It’s a lot of hard work and you know it!” he called as an afterthought.

The older brother laughed in response, slowly making his way over to the teen. He held his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Ok, ok. I’ll come save you, then. No need to get so worked up.”

The younger brother muttered darkly as the older made his way across the frozen street, clearly taking his time in an effort to rile the other up. He spoke tauntingly as he approached the teen.

“Little, Volya – the damsel in distress,” he crooned, eyes twinkling, “How ever would you manage without me?”

The younger brother’s face flushed at the taunts. He glared sharply at his brother.

“Seriously, Volya. You’re going to have to learn to take care of yourself when I’m gone.”

The teen narrowed his eyes, no longer able to hold back his thoughts. “You mean you actually plan on moving out and getting a job?”

The older brother halted after the question, some unknown emotion flashing across his face before it cleared. He leveled the other with a steely expression.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

The teen cocked his head. “I don’t think I’m the pathetic one here – not when all your friends have moved on and gotten jobs of their own. Tell me, Alexei. What are you still doing here?”

Those words … they were something that the older brother heard on a daily basis. It seemed like he couldn’t go even an hour without contemplating them, but with his work ethic and his grades, he had never really been cut out for the work place.

It was something he had accepted. Even when his friends all moved on to bigger and better things. Especially when his parents disproving looks had slowly melted into ones of bitter acceptance.

He figured he’d go to trade school or something eventually.

He just hadn’t found his calling yet; nothing jumped out to him. Some people were lucky enough to know from a young age the exact thing they wanted to do. The older brother wasn’t one of these people.

These words still cut into the older boy, though, and the younger teen knew it; he was hitting him where it hurt. He buried the flash of pain under anger.

“Fine!” he yelled across the intersection, beginning to skate away. “If you want me gone that badly then I’ll just leave you here – you’ll have to get used to it eventually, anyway!”

Normally the older boy would never consider doing this, but in this moment, he was just so worked up that he couldn’t think straight. He ignored the sound of the younger teen’s calls and made it several meters away. It wasn’t until his calls turned into desperate shouts that the older boy stilled.

He heaved a great sigh and turned around, ready to placate his brother, but what met his sight chilled him to the bone. A truck was quickly approaching the intersection where the younger brother stood. It was slowing, but had obviously started to spin out of control as the tires lost traction.

“Volya!” he called, sprinting over with the speed and agility that he never had in any of his ice hockey matches.

Their eyes locked across the icy expanse. In that pivotal moment, it was like the fight had never happened. They were simply two brothers, desperate to bridge the divide. When the older brother finally reached the younger, he shoved him out of the line of the incoming truck with all his might. They tumbled to the ground, just missing it by a hair.

The sat there in a pile, shaking and sobbing against each other as intense relief clashed with the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. When the older brother lifted his head to make sure the younger was alright, he huffed and chuckled shakily.

“Volya … your glasses.”

The teen scrunched his eyebrows, shakily bringing a hand to the lens. He fingered it for a second, face whitening.

“Oh, god … Mom’s going to _kill_ me.”

The older brother released a bark of laughter at the statement. The younger looked incredulous for a moment, but as the reality of the situation caught up with him, a small smile twitched across his face. The two boys laughed loudly, voices mingling and echoing across the quiet street.

It was a strange yet meaningful moment.

The brothers shared this connection, shaking against each other in relief and amusement for one of the last times, unaware of the looming threat just on the cusp of the horizon …

  ~~~~*

 

Alexei opened his eyes. Volya stared back through the grainy video.

He shuddered, and as a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, he allowed himself to grieve openly for the first time. He grieved for the comradery he had lost, for the life stolen away from a young boy, but above all, he grieved for that lingering connection that they shared that was now gone, lost to the skies like the twinkling stars above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS: PLEASE READ ENTIRE AUTHOR'S NOTES
> 
> \- First of all, I have another ART ALERT!!! The lovely Ramigo made beautiful [concept art of this fic](https://ramigo.tumblr.com/post/159248726419/smol-poster-ish-painting-and-a-sketch-dump-based), featuring Alexei and Viktor prowling the streets at night and character designs for Alexei, Nina, the kidnapper, and Viktor. Please show them your love and appreciation for their beautiful work! <3<3<3
> 
> \- I made a playlist for this fic! Check out the post [here](https://katyaton.tumblr.com/post/159440840322/cognitive-dissonance-the-playlist).
> 
> \- Lastly, this fic is set to go up in rating next chapter to 'M'. Please keep this in mind and proceed at your own discretion. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I didn't realize how fun it would be to write in Mari's POV.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	11. Frameshift

“Small shifts in your thinking, and small changes in your energy, can lead to massive alterations of your end result.”   
― **Kevin Michel**

 

 

**Chapter 11: Frameshift**

Mari glared at Isao out of the corner of her eye. He sat just to her left, hands clasped together over the wooden table, back ramrod straight. He looked dead ahead, mouth curved into a dumb, polite smile.

His whole demeanor was just freakish; there was definitely something wrong with this man.

Tamaki sat to her right, clicking on a laptop as he set up the video feed. After Mari had recovered from the initial shock of Isao’s proposition yesterday, she had contacted Tamaki as soon as she could. There was no way she was dealing with Isao - if that was who he said he was - without official help.

If there was one thing Mari had noticed over the course of a few hours, it was that Tamaki Taro was a practical and efficient man. When Mari told him of Isao’s proposition, it took him less than a day to reorganize everything and push this meeting to the top of his priorities. After talking with Isao, he had informally agreed to consider pardoning him, or at least lessening any sentence he got if he shared any information he knew about her little brother’s kidnapper.

Mari wasn’t the most knowledgeable when it came to dealings such as these, but after getting to know Tamaki, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was holding out on Isao; that he was just agreeing to encourage Isao to share what he knew, because as far as she knew they hadn’t signed any sort of formal agreement on the matter.

Mari wasn’t sure what his crimes entailed, and neither did Tamaki, apparently, but they either weren’t too bad – which Mari seriously doubted at this point – or he was very confident that the clues he could offer would be enough to pardon him.

Regardless, Mari was eager to hear the information that he had dubbed worthy enough to release him from the consequences of his past wrongdoings.

They were now in Tamaki’s investigative office in Tokyo, sequestered away in a small room deep within the building. Tamaki had sent one of his detectives to escort them from Yutopia to Tokyo. He had even covered the cost of their plane tickets. To go this far and expend all this effort was very significant to Mari; he must think Isao had something vital to share, or was at least connected to the case somehow.

Either way, though, Mari had spent more than enough time with the creep to last her a lifetime. Thank god the other detective had been there as a buffer during the plane ride – Mari’s sanity probably wouldn’t have remained intact without her.

Mari’s gaze darted to the computer as Tamaki leaned back. The video link that would connect them with the Russian detective, Alexei Kozar, was primed and ready to go. Tamaki mentioned that his own firm was heavily involved in this investigation as it involved a person of interest from Japan, but that the final decisions lay with Kozar’s team. If they were going to get any information out of Isao, Tamaki wanted Kozar involved in the discussion as well.

Mari thought that was smart. Kozar could have information that could fill in the gaps, and vice versa.

They were just a few minutes out from the scheduled video chat with him, and then finally, Isao would tell them what he knew.

Tamaki placed his hands in his lap and studied Isao who sat a couple seats down. His tight mouth and narrowed eyes only added to his naturally imposing aura.

“You remember our terms, Kanbayashi-san?” he asked crisply, face stoic, “If you give us information that helps with the case, we’ll consider lessening or even pardoning your previous transgressions.”

The only sign that Isao had heard was in the gradual lessening of his smile. It fell as the detective spoke, falling into a grim line.

“However,” Tamaki continued, “If you fail to produce anything of value, we can make no such promises.”

Isao turned his head and eyed Tamaki. He smiled slowly now, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I can assure you that won’t be a problem. You’ll very much appreciate what I have to tell you, or –” he cut off and tilted his head, smile growing larger. “Or rather Yuuri will appreciate what I’m going to say. It’ll bring you a lot closer to the root of the matter – that I can promise.”

Mari shivered internally. Everything about this man was extremely off putting; the way he spoke, his mannerisms, and especially the glint in his eye whenever he spoke. Mari had a strong sense of foreboding every time she looked at him, yet despite this, she forced herself to glare back each and every time.

Like hell she’d let the bastard know how he affected her; she’d keel over before that happened.

Tamaki nodded brusquely. “That’s what were all hoping for.” He turned to the laptop and began clicking, activating the video feed. “Now, it’s exactly time to contact Kozar. Let’s not keep him or his associates waiting.”

Mari turned her attention to the screen. She was eager to meet the man in charge of Yuuri’s case face to face. The video feed loaded for a few seconds before the screen flashed and connected.

Mari snorted as a close up of a man’s face filled the feed, frowning and speaking rapidly in Russian. It was obvious he was having difficulty with the connection. Her amusement turned to ire.

This was the man in charge of finding her brother?

A blonde woman exclaimed something quickly, then grabbed the man’s shoulders and pulled him back, allowing them both to fill the screen. The man’s face dusted pink as he muttered something under his breath. He held up a red thermos and took a swig as the woman threw him a smirk.

She turned to the feed and smiled brusquely, speaking in accented English. “Hello Mr. Tamaki. It’s good to hear from you again.” Her eyes drifted to Mari and Isao. “My name is Nina Barkova and this is Alexei Kozar,” she said, gesturing to the man beside her. He nodded at them, placing the thermos down on the table. “As you can imagine, we’re both working on the Katsuki case.”

Mari flinched.

_The Katsuki case._

It sounded so formal, so precise. It seemed a little strange to summarize this whole ordeal into one title like that. It made it shockingly apparent how different their situations were; for Barkova and Kozar, this was just another case that they did for work, nothing else.

But for Mari and her family … this wasn’t just another day at work. This whole event had uprooted so many aspects of their lives, and to summarize that pain in just three words - three insignificant, errant words - was quite unsettling.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Barkova who noticed her reaction, but Kozar. He leaned forward, earlier embarrassment gone from his face. He spoke with a calm, yet commanding tone.

“Mari.”

She looked up, a bit surprised to find that she had torn her eyes from the screen. Kozar’s brown eyes softened into understanding as they locked gazes.

“That video you sent us the other day was of immense help. I can assure you that we’re very close to finding Yuuri – it may just be the clue that gives us his location,” he said softly, imploringly. “It won’t be much longer now.”

Mari knew Kozar was just spewing useless platitudes. There was no guarantee that they’d be able to get anything out of the video, but despite this, she couldn’t help but feel herself relax a tiny bit at his words.

She acknowledged Kozar with a small, half smile; at this point, it was the best she could do. Kozar gave his own stilted smile in return, then turned to address Isao.

“You must be Kanbayashi Isao, correct? I hear you have details that can help us with the case.”

Isao leaned forward slowly, drawing out a creak from the chair with his movements. “I have information about the kidnapper’s family, yes.”

Tamaki cleared his throat. “Kanbayashi-san was once married to our prime suspect – Kanbayashi Ko. We found that she was pronounced dead by the state of Japan, but with the testimony of Kanbayshi-san, this may be proven false. He claims to have details that will enlighten us.”

Everyone collectively looked to Isao after Tamaki spoke. Mari could feel the tension and anticipation in the air. After a few seconds of silence, Mari couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well?” she blurted, far beyond civility.

Isao clenched and unclenched his hands. The same polite, yet forced smile appeared on his face.

“To understand Ko, you must first understand her background,” he finally began. “You see, Ko comes from a very influential family, one that has been in the region for generations. The Shimizu family is involved in many aspects of the community, the majority being political. They have worked long and hard to achieve such status and wealth, and are especially wary to anything that could jeopardize their standings.”

The previous uneasiness Mari felt returned with a vengeance. There was no way this could turn out well …

“So you see, when Ko was born, she was immediately silenced as soon as her mental illnesses became apparent. A child with both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia served little purpose to her parents, who were trying to take the community, and if they had their way, the greater region by storm. No … all Ko represented to them was a hindrance to their plans.”

Isao’s voice was muted and lacking in tone. His hands stopped clenching as he considered his next words.

“Ko was never physically abused by them, but shunted away out of sight. It became where no one knew the Shimizus even had a daughter. However, when it got to the point where she had to live on her own, they knew they needed someone to watch over her.”

Isao grew silent for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“I was that person.”

“But why would did you agree to that?” Barkova interjected. “Surely you had to know something was up about the whole situation.”

“Of course, I did,” he snapped. “But I was … poor and so desperately alone. The Shimizus offered me a lot of money, more than enough to live on, for as long as I called her my wife.”

“Bribery,” Kozar murmured quietly.

“I agreed to it; I had no choice, really. There was no way I could turn down all that yen. And as soon as I agreed, the Shimizus gave us our own plot of land about an hour away from their home. It was far enough away from their activities, but still well within their radius of influence. We were out of sight, out of mind, at least until Hoshito was born.”

“Why did you have a child with her?” Mari asked, unable to mask her disapproval. She knew she should leave the questioning up to the detectives, but she found it difficult to hold back. “It’s obvious you didn’t like the woman.”

Isao’s face screwed up. “No. I didn’t at all, but Ko was the Shimizus only child, you see. They didn’t want to leave Ko any of their assets after passing, but had no one else to give them to. They … offered me a huge bonus upon my agreement to father a child in the hopes that he or she would dodge any illness. This grandchild would then be the heir to their empire rather than Ko.”

Disgust curled in the pit of Mari’s stomach. The more she heard the worse it seemed to get.

“However, years after Hoshito’s birth, it became apparent that he exhibited warning signs of schizophrenia. When they realized this, they wanted nothing to do with him and gave up pestering us for more children.”

Isao bit his lip as his lips downturned. Mari frowned. This had to be one of the first times she had seen genuine emotion - or what appeared to be genuine emotion - from the man.

“I never really got to know Hoshito. The majority of his life, I was gone from the house, desperate to get away from Ko as much as possible. I had several affairs over the years, which I know Ko was aware of. I spent the least amount of time in the home as possible, and as a result, failed to notice how far her mental illness had progressed.”

He exhaled and looked up at the screen connecting them to the Russian detectives.

“Do you know much about schizophrenia? I imagine you all would, given your profession.”

“Delusions and hallucinations – those are the hallmarks of the illness,” Barkova said crisply. 

Isao gave her a half smile that contained no warmth.

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “Ko began to think the most outrageous things – that I was physically abusive to her and Hoshito, that I wanted the two of them dead. She got so wrapped up in this idea that she eventually convinced herself that the only way to save our son was to murder him herself. I think she saw it not as killing him, really, but as a way to save him from my apparent vengeance.”

“Fuck,” Mari muttered under her breath. This was all so messed up. If this woman truly had Yuuri, who was to say she wouldn’t murder again? Her heart began picking up speed as Isao continued.

“As soon as the Shimuzus found out about Hoshito’s murder and Ko’s incarceration, they immediately started dishing out large sums of money and favors to people involved in her case. They were doing damage control, you see, because the media had immediately connected the murder of an innocent boy to their family. They wanted to hush the whole thing up as much as possible. In time, they were successful enough to prevent Ko’s execution, instead landing her in a mental facility.”

Isao’s expression turned wry.

“There are only so many things that money and influence can buy, though. When Ko managed to escape the mental institution, they panicked, convinced that if news featured her once again, then their already dwindling political life would be over for good. They paid off a lot more people, myself included, to keep our silence and keep up the pretense that Ko had died at the institution. We had a whole ceremony and everything.”

Mari was wide eyed at the news. It was … a lot to take in, and that was putting it mildly. She suddenly felt like she was in the middle of one of those crime shows she had been obsessed with. Except now, in real life, it was decidedly less intriguing and much more horrifying.

It was one thing to enjoy something in a safe, fictional setting and entirely another to find herself in that situation in real life.

However, this wasn’t some television show she could turn off or a book she could close if it got to be too much. This was the real life, and there was no easy escape here.

“Years passed without incidence. I continued to get money for my silence, and for a while, it seemed that the whole horrible ordeal had settled. One day, though, I noticed a news article about a boy from China who had been kidnapped. Normally I wouldn’t have taken much interest in it, but when they showed a picture of him and noted that he was an ice skater just like Hoshito had been, it stuck with me. When an article came out about a week ago detailing his recovered body and the weapon found on the scene, that was when I knew.”

“You’re familiar with her knives?” Kozar questioned intensely. His eyes darted over Isao’s face in interest.

Mari raised her eyebrows; this was the first she had heard of knives.

“Oh, yes. Ko had always had a lot of free time, being shut up the majority of her life. She found some solace in metal work, though; it was one of the few things her parents had allowed growing up. When she and I moved away, she expanded her skills into weapon making. I grew very, very familiar with her style of work. When I saw the knife in the paper, I knew without a doubt that it was her doing.”

He glanced away from Kozar and looked solely at Mari now.

“After that, it didn’t take me long to connect it to Yuuri Katsuki. Everyone was talking about him, at least in Japan. I knew then that Ko was still at large, and if I offered you this information, that I may be able to lessen the crime of knowing and hindering criminal investigations. I figured it was only a matter of time before she was caught. I wanted to give my side and offer what I could before that chance left me.”

His fake smile returned in full force as the gleam returned to his eyes. “That’s why I paid dear Mari here a visit. I knew if I went right to the source – his family, that I’d be involved with the higher ups in no time.”

Mari narrowed her eyes, not letting herself falter under his penetrating stare.

“I hope you all can see now that the real criminals here aren’t necessarily myself or Ko. No. We are simply … ” he trailed off, cocking his head in thought. “… victims of circumstance, if you will.”

Mari chuckled bitterly. He was making it seem like he had no say in all of this, but Mari knew better. He was a sweet talker, regaling them with pretty words and carefully formulated phrases to butter them up. It was suddenly apparent to Mari that even if Isao hadn’t murdered Hoshito or wasn’t involved in Yuuri’s kidnapping, he was still no better than the Shimizus.

Isao frowned at Mari and opened his mouth to say something, but Tamaki spoke before he could.

“We could have you charged with obstruction of justice if this pans out to be true.”

Isao exhaled forcefully. “But you won’t; not if I testify against the Shimizus and Ko in a court of law; not if I give you the names of all the others who were payed to remain silent.”

Tamaki was silent for several seconds, staring at Isao with an unchanging, stoic expression.

“We’ll negotiate terms later,” he spoke finally, directing the conversation away from that route. It was apparent to even Mari, though, that Isao would likely get what he desired here, at least to some extent. The smug smile on his face told Mari that he thought so as well.

For a moment, no one else had anything to say. Everyone was silent, taking in the gravity of Isao’s testament.

Kanbayshi Ko was a murderer, no matter how you spun it. Mari bit her lip as a damning thought flashed unbidden across her mind. Every second that they sat here was like a ticking time bomb, relentlessly counting down the days, hours, and minutes before the past repeated itself.

Just how much longer did her little brother have?

She closed her eyes in defeat, desperate to crush down the cresting wave of bitter sorrow.

Time was running out, and despite all this new information, they remained no closer than before to finding Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as he tried to process the news.

“So …” he swallowed, still gathering his thoughts, “… what you’re telling me is that after all of this, we’re still no closer to finding Yuuri, correct?”

Nina’s hand on Viktor’s shoulder wavered for a moment before she retracted it.

“We found out a lot of crucial information about Kanbayashi Ko and further confirmed a few theories that we had, but … you’re correct. We still don’t know where she is outside of Priozersk.”

Viktor bit his lip and opened his eyes, taking in her hesitant expression. He felt like sobbing. He knew – they all knew – that they needed just one more crucial detail to find Yuuri; just one more clue, and the entire puzzle would come together.

When Alexei and Nina had told him that Tamaki Taro had urgently called the day after discovering the video, Viktor had grown desperately hopeful. It was enough to dig him out of the depression that followed the aftermath of the video. That, and the fact that Mari had received the video from Yuuri’s personal email, suggesting that Yuuri was still alive; that he hadn’t … died after potentially falling through the ice.  Viktor had clutched this detail to his chest with an unbearable force; it was the only thing he had, along with the promise of Tamaki’s message.

But that hadn’t panned out, apparently.

Viktor blinked rapidly as fat, pearl like tears spilled over his cheeks. He didn’t even bother wiping them from his face. Why would he even bother? He’d probably be crying again sometime soon, what with the way things were going.

Nina reached forward and tugged on his arm.

“C’mon Viktor. We’re going to look through the video now frame by frame. It’s the best chance we have to find a clue that will tell us where they are.”

Viktor felt himself being pulled forward. He felt like a blind man, guided solely by touch and sound alone. He blinked, trying to dislodge the tears and clear his sight.

He felt so numb.

It was a strange turn of events - ironic, really -  that his current emotions were so opposite to his previous reactions. Not even a day ago, he had been screaming and raving with grief. It was still present, of course, but now it just felt buried; packed away under layers of an anesthesia- like- numbness.

“Viktor.”

He looked up and searched for the sound, a little surprised to find himself seated in a chair in Alexei’s office. The man himself sat across the desk with a laptop open, eyebrows raised in concern.

“Viktor,” Alexei tried again, “We’re going to spend today looking through the video. Do you think … Will that be too much for you?”

One layer of the numbness faded as a new emotion, slightly indignant, rushed forward. His face felt tight from the drying tear tracks when he frowned.

“Nothing’s too much when it comes to Yuuri,” he murmured quietly.

Alexei’s eyes softened.

“Ok, then. Let’s get started.”

For the next few hours, the three stared intently at the video, breaking it down frame by frame. It was the worst kind of torture for Viktor, not because of the monotony all it all, but because they spent hours looking at Yuuri’s face.

_Yuuri’s hallow, fragile, dispirited face._

Viktor had to look away a few times when it became too much. Nina and Alexei, for their part, never said anything when he did this, allowing him at least this much.

After another hour passed, Viktor was nearing his breaking point.

“There’s nothing here that we can use,” he said morosely.

Nina blinked upon his words and leaned back from the screen. She looked like she was coming out of a trance.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Viktor huffed. He glanced between the two detectives, both giving him questioning looks.

“How can you stand to look at this for so long? We’ve been staring at this damned thing for hours!”

Alexei’s expression turned almost … pitying?

“This is nothing, Viktor. I hate to break it to you, but we’ve spent entire weeks analyzing single pieces of evidence before.”

Viktor tilted his head back and groaned.  He closed his eyes and clutched his hair. Television had always made detective work seem rather glamorous. They had conveniently left out the hours spent in monotonous silence and frustration, though. At least right now, Viktor had a personal investment in this case and a motivation to keep going, but if he had to do this every day for the rest of his life, there was no way he wouldn’t go stir crazy.

He had no idea how these two managed to do this as a part of their career.

He opened his eyes and blinked blearily at the screen once more. It was in slow motion now, reduced to nearly a fifth of the real-time speed. His eyes drifted to the horizon of the screen, tracking the slow progression of a plane. It was heading towards a stormy region of the sky, which didn’t really make sense.

Viktor had been on enough flights in all his years of traveling to know that no airline would risk flying directly into a storm. Planes were more likely to circle in the sky as they waited for the storm to pass, or find an alternative airport to land at if the storm was extensive. And if that was the case …

“Can you go forward a few minutes on the video?”

Nina threw him an inquisitive look.

“Why?”

“Just do it, please.” Viktor leaned forward, vibrating in his seat a little. Nina skipped forward a few minutes and when Viktor caught sight of the plane again on the horizon, his heart leaped into his throat.

_He was right._

The plane was facing the opposite direction now. It appeared to be circling the region as it waited out the storm for landing.

“The plane,” he gasped out, pointing shakily to the grainy speck on the screen. “The plane is circling the region.”

It only took the detectives a few seconds to understand the implications behind Viktor’s statement. Nina let out a shaky breath as Alexei launched out of his chair and began pacing the office.

“We know approximately when this video was taken. If we can cross reference that time with storms that resulted in delayed flight landings near Priozersk, we’ll be able to pinpoint it to that one plane. It’ll be no problem to obtain the geographic region the plane was circling over as it waited to land.”

A broad grin stretched across Nina’s face.

“The region is extremely remote. With satellite imagery, we’ll easily find any buildings in the area.”

She turned to Viktor with a bright smile and pulled him into a hug. He clasped at her shoulders with unbridled desperation. She angled her head towards his ear.

“Yuuri is going to be found, Viktor. This was exactly what we needed.”

Viktor released a choked sob, and for the first time in what felt like ages, it was a sob of relief.

They had the final piece of the puzzle; they’d be able to find Yuuri’s location with this for sure.

His fiancé would be returned to him.

And Viktor would never, ever let him go.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri fiddled absentmindedly with the sliding puzzle, trying to rearrange the fifteen numbered pieces in order. He had been trying for the better part of an hour now, and he was just on the cusp of arranging them correctly; he could feel it.

The floor boards creaked as his mother entered the room, carrying a rectangular, flat box.

It was the display case for her knives that he had discovered in her room, Yuuri remembered. He disregarded the puzzle for a moment and tracked her progression. She settled into a chair in the living room and opened the case.

After watching her for a couple minutes, it became clear that she was dismantling it. Yuuri tilted his head in confusion.

“Mother?”

She didn’t bother looking up from the case, but if the pause in her work was any indication, she had heard his call.

“What are you doing with your knife case?”

She kept working and didn’t respond, and after a few seconds Yuuri decided to not press further and return to his puzzle, but before he could she responded quietly, voice managing to fill the room despite its low tone.

“It’s time to add another knife to the display, Hoshito.”

Yuuri looked up from his puzzle and nearly flinched at her expression. Her stare was penetrating and severe; the intensity of it bore into him like a drill.

“But you already know this, dear. I’ve been working long and hard on the new knife ever since you arrived; only the finishing details remain. I didn’t expect to need it so soon, but as you know things can change at the drop of a hat.”

His mother eyed him as she spoke. Each word had a heavy gravity to it, as if she was implying two things at once. Yuuri’s fingers curled into fists. He couldn’t know for sure, but it seemed like she was hinting that she knew all about Yuuri’s earlier treachery.

He had acknowledged to himself that it was only a matter of time until she found out, but that didn’t stop the spike of fear shooting through his heart.

She began taking the three knives out of the case, regarding each with a wistful expression before laying them down. Looking up again, she met Yuuri’s gaze with a wry smile.

“I would have had four knives here, Hoshito, but if you remember, you took one of them and never returned it to me. Because of your negligence, it’s the one knife in the collection that I will never have.”

Yuuri bit his lip. He didn’t know about the missing knife – of course he didn’t know – but guilt still coursed through him regardless of this fact. Her collection would never be complete, forever missing the one piece that would make it whole.

 “I’m sorry mother,” he breathed out. She stared at him a moment longer before returning to the display case. Yuuri resumed his own activity, eager to calm himself in its mindless distraction. He had lined up numbers one through ten on the puzzle. He was very close to lining up the full set.

He jumped when loud bang originated from her side of the room. She was hammering in a hooked pipe into the display case. It was similar to the others, and would act as a ledge to hold the next knife in the display.

Yuuri swallowed and returned to his puzzle. She finished after another ten minutes and breezed into the kitchen where Yuuri sat. Wordlessly, she began preparing dinner.

_Shick._

Yuuri flinched at the sound of the knife skinning the rat. He had grown quiet familiar with this sound, but it was still a little startling.

_Shick. Shick. Shick._

As the minutes passed in silence, Yuuri grew more tense. He could barely focus on his puzzle now. He felt like he was waiting for the inevitable, for the looming punishment that would surely befall him.

He had to hand it to her; waiting in fear and anticipation was a punishment in and of itself.

He jumped when a bowl and plate was placed in front of him, one containing rat and the other oatmeal. He eyed the oatmeal in confusion.

He never had it for dinner, only eating it at breakfast. Why was she serving it now? When he glanced up in question, the words died in his throat upon viewing her expression.

It was tight and twitching, signaling without words that questions would not be tolerated.

“Th-thank you for the food.”

Yuuri scooped up a bit of oatmeal with the spoon and brought it to his mouth. When he looked across the table and met her intense gaze, he faltered.

Her hands were folded under her chin, eyes observing him without blinking.

She hadn’t served herself.

Her eyes narrowed upon his hesitation.

“Eat,” she said forcefully, barring no arguments on the matter.

Something felt off with this whole situation, but he didn’t really have a choice, did he? He brought the oatmeal to his mouth and chewed it a few times, letting it slide down his throat.

She continued to watch him eat for the next ten minutes, and only when he had finished did she relax her posture.

“Very good, Hoshito. Finish up what you’re doing and then head upstairs. I’ll tuck you into bed.”

She left the room in a twirl of robes, floor boards creaking as she made her way upstairs. Yuuri released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as the sounds of her departure lessened.

He looked down at the puzzle again. He rearranged a few more pieces as he waited for his hammering heart to lessen. He had numbers one through thirteen in their proper spots now, but fourteen and fifteen were out of order. With all the other numbers in their proper place, there was no room to rearrange fourteen and fifteen without ruining the placement of the others.

There was no way around it; he’d have to start over to complete this puzzle.

Bitter disappointment welled within him. He abruptly stood from the table and made his way upstairs. He couldn’t afford to try again, not when his mother was waiting on him.

Making the trek upstairs was a little difficult for some reason. He found himself bridled with fatigue, even though he hadn’t done anything strenuous today. When he finally made it to his room, he collapsed on the bed and barely registered his mother’s movements as she rearranged him. When he opened his eyes, she was peering above him, face only a foot from his.

She smiled wickedly.

“You know I don’t tolerate disobedience, Hoshito.”

His previous fear returned vaguely, diluted by this sudden, strange fatigue.

“Clearly, I haven’t reinforced the rules enough with you. That’s a mistake on my part, one that I will admit, however it doesn’t take away the magnitude of what you have done.”

Her frazzled hair framed her head like a demonic halo, cascading down and framing her face as she peered down at Yuuri.

“I hope you enjoyed your dinner,” she whispered.

Through the foggy haze, one thought became absolutely clear.

The - the oatmeal.

_Oh god, the oatmeal._

Yuuri shuddered, and as his eyes closed against his volition, the last thing he saw were her flashing eyes, deep and hollow like the eyes of death.

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri awoke with a start.

He flexed his muscles, only to find them constrained. He pulled with more force, and met the resistance of a rope.

_On all of his limbs._

He exhaled shakily and peered down at his feet. They were tied together by the ankles, while his hands were tied to the headboard.

He pulled on the rope again in desperation, but it was no use.

There was no escape.

A pitiful whine started building in his throat as his body shook like a leaf, only to be cut off when a voice spoke from the corner of the room.

“You know why I’m doing this, don’t you Hoshito?”

Yuuri began sobbing now, tugging uselessly against the ropes. She took a few steps forward, the celling light illuminating her face and throwing the edges of her cheek bones into sharp relief. She stood at the end of the bed, arms behind her back.

“Please …” he whispered, unable to control himself, “Please m-mother. I promise I’ll be good I -”

“Save it, Hoshito,” she snapped. Her gaze grew sharp, eyes roving over his face.

“Sending that video out … did it ever occur to you that your father could get ahold of it? It’s a good thing I found out about your deceit. It gives us just enough time to prepare before he finds us. But first, …” her hands came forward now, and in her grasp was a heavy weight, one that would attach to the bar of a bench press.

“I have just enough time to punish you for your disobedience.”

Yuuri started whimpering loudly. He didn’t know what she planned to do with the weight, but whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

She gazed down at his feet tied together at the end of the bed. She leaned forward across the footboard and lifted the weight above her head, arms shaking a little as she held it aloft.

Suddenly, everything made horrible, perfect sense.

_Oh god._

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! Yuuri screamed, tugging against the ropes with a renewed fervor. He would take any other punishment _,_ anything but this!

She met his panicked stare, weight held high above her head.

“I thought to myself … what type of punishment would have the greatest impact? What was the one thing you cherished above all others?”

She grinned. Yuuri’s sobs increased in volume.

“And then it came to me. Skating is perhaps the one thing that you love unconditionally. I can’t exactly take your talent away from you …” she murmured, staring down at his tied feet, “but I can take the next best thing.”

Yuuri thrashed against the taunt ropes. He began babbling in desperation.

“No! No please, mother! Please!” he wailed, breath escaping in harsh pants. Tears trailed down his cheeks in rivets.

If she took this away from him - one of the last things that was keeping him going during his time here - he didn’t know how he would survive.

Her expression was unsympathetic as she assessed him.

“It’s too little, too late, dear. You should have thought about this before you disobeyed me.”

Yuuri cried out.

She dropped the weight.

And everything, both physically and mentally, seemed to shatter, fracturing and chipping away like the dreams he once held so deeply to his heart.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! 
> 
> So ... yeah. How about that ending? If you caught the painfully obvious reference to Stephen King's Misery then good for you! This chapter was very hard to write for obvious reasons (and likely very hard to read), but I hope you enjoyed it regardless! 
> 
> Anyways, I have another ART ALERT! You can find it [here](https://nitoritheslut.tumblr.com/image/159549746849)! It's so great - they managed to capture the kidnapper's general creepiness very, very well. Please give them your love and support! <3
> 
> Also, if you weren't sure what sliding puzzle I was referencing this chapter, [here](https://www.google.com/search?q=sliding+puzzles&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjdp_nR-OHTAhUni1QKHV3SAcoQ_AUICygC&biw=1366&bih=638#imgrc=E14IH4npS53YNM:) are pictures. 
> 
> Lastly, I've started another Yoi fic which you can check out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10732299/chapters/23785002). It's a lot less angsty (but still a little angsty because im a glutton for it) and there's a guaranteed happy ending! Go read it if you so please! :)
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading and sticking with me on this journey! I appreciate everyone's support so very much.


	12. Killing Time

“There's nothing we fear more than our own reflection. We scream at the monsters within us, hidden deep within our hearts. We run and hide from the terrors all around us- the different mirrors that we see.” **  
**

**-Solange Nicole**

 

**Chapter 12: Killing Time**

A barren expanse stretched out in front of him - a desolate, white landscape as far as Viktor could see.

Despite the emptiness and the solitude, there was something not quite right about this place. It had an eerie quality to it, the silence whispering warnings into his head.

Viktor started walking for lack of anything else to do; it also made him antsy to stand still in this place.

He kept moving.

A presence made itself known after an infinitesimal amount of time. Viktor stopped abruptly and turned.

Across the emptiness stood a hunched figure. It shuffled along in a jilting manner, placing more weight on its left foot. They looked beaten down, bedraggled. Viktor narrowed his eyes as he studied the scene before him.

There was something about this person …

His eyes flicked up to the unruly hair. Dark and sleek, it fell softly over their ears, curling slightly on the ends and tickling the back of their neck.

Viktor’s fingers twitched.

He knew that hair – it’s softness, its smooth silkiness and texture. He knew it like the back of his hand. A memory, buried beneath layers of fog, rose to the forefront of his mind.

That wasn’t just any person.

Viktor’s heart picked up pace as he stumbled towards the figure – and not just any figure. It was his love, his life, his everything.

It was Yuuri.

Viktor ran to him, reaching out a hand in a desperate plea. He huffed in frustration, lungs burning with each exhale, as Yuuri continued to remain the same distance from him.

He stared crying in frustration.

It was futile. No matter how hard he ran, Yuuri was just out of arm’s reach - forever isolated and alone.

Forever separated from Viktor.

At some point, Viktor grew weary with exhaustion and keeled over, clasping his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. When he looked up, Yuuri remained the same distance from him.

Viktor still couldn’t see his face.

“You think you’re close to finding him, don’t you?” a gnarled voice whispered in his ear.

Viktor barely withheld a scream. He stiffened, straightening up as he assessed the person who had suddenly appeared next to him.

A woman smiled at him, face unsettlingly close to Viktor’s own. Her skin was mottled, her eyes dark and unseeing.

Her grin grew in magnitude, reveling yellowed, chipped teeth.

Viktor recoiled.

She cackled as he attempted to calm his racing heart.

“You really _do_ believe that it’s going to be that simple.” She cocked her head over in the direction of Yuuri. “That he’ll be returned to you safe and sound.”

Viktor followed her gaze to Yuuri’s prone form. He had stopped moving, standing eerily still with his head tilted to the side, as if he were awaiting instructions.

She began laughing, and as it grew in volume, it echoed around the limitless void, reverberating and layering in a horrifying new melody.

Viktor found his voice as the laughs diminished.

“What –” He swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

She smiled as she walked towards Yuuri, never taking her eyes off Viktor. He exhaled, and tried to follow her, but found himself in the same predicament as before; he couldn’t shorten the divide between himself and the two no matter how hard he tried.

She reached Yuuri and placed a hand on his head, stroking it through the dark strands like the caress of a loved one.

Viktor bristled. It should be him doing that, not her. Not some poor excuse for a human, not someone that was more otherworldly than alive.

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?” she asked, a sly and lilting quality saturating her tone.

Viktor trembled where he stood, eyes tracking the slow progression of her hand through his hair. He was so close to his Yuuri _– so close!_ And even after all of this time he was still a lifetime away.

He met her hollow eyes.

He couldn’t begin to ponder what she was referring to.

Her smile turned mocking as her hand stilled in Yuuri’s hair.

“No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, I will _always_ be with him.” She reached into her shawl and pulled out a sharp knife. As she turned it over in her hand, it caught the light over and over. Viktor had to squint to keep her in focus.

“Oh, you can find him – of that there is no doubt. But to really have him returned? All his intricacies and complexity and charm? Well …” She released an amused huff. “You might find yourself at a standstill in that regard.”

She stopped twirling the knife.

Viktor understood what she meant on an innate level, but it was something the forefront of his mind just wouldn’t accept. His hands curled into fists as he choked out a rebuttal.

“No! I – I won’t let that happen. Yuuri will be fine. We just have to find him and let him recover a bit -”

“But you don’t _really_ believe that, do you?”

Her head tilted to the side as she studied him, a mildly amused look on her face. Viktor jolted as the curls of doubt, which he had so successfully kept buried, danced across his thoughts.

Yes. He supposed a part of him had been worried –  Yuuri could be so altered from the trauma of it all that it would be like not finding him at all.

He remained quiet as this thought warred, his own silence practically confirming her previous question.

She smiled as she lifted the knife, opposite hand curled into Yuuri’s hair and holding him still.

Viktor jolted out of his thoughts upon her movement.

“Please,” he begged. He started running again to no avail, doing nothing more than tiring himself out as he tried to reach their location.

“Try all you might, Viktor, but you’ll never truly have him back,” she said, speaking over his breathless calls. She retracted the knife farther and smirked. “He’ll be forever branded by my influence.”

She plunged the knife into Yuuri’s back and Viktor screamed and screamed – a wail so loud and forlorn that he didn’t even recognize it as his own.

Yuuri crumpled to the ground, unmoving, and her cackles started again.

Viktor clasped his hands to his eyes as he crumpled along with his love, sobs ripping from his throat.

The sounds were getting louder; his heart was aching; his vision began to blur.

_It was all too much._

He was falling, falling, falling into a nightmare where there was no return.

As he descended, the last thing he could make out was her sly voice, surprisingly quiet among the cacophony, but heard all the same.

“You’ll never find him.”

 

***

 

Viktor jolted awake with a start, throat pinched up in a silent scream. He exhaled shakily as he stared at the passing scenery blurring by.

‘It was a dream’ his mind whispered at him, but as much as that may have been true, his heart vehemently denied it.

He tried to slow his rapid breathing as he focused on a fenced pasture just outside the window. The poles separating each plank of wood would blur together if he unfocused his eyes, creating an endless brown bar, but if he focused his eyes, he could individually pick out each plank in the fence.

It grounded him as his breathing returned to normal.

Yes.

It was just a dream, but that didn’t mean that it hadn’t delved into some very real thoughts that he’d been having.

It would be more than he could bear if they managed to find Yuuri, after all this time and pain and difficulty, without _truly_ finding him.

Viktor’s face crumpled, his left cheek stretching uncomfortably against the glass of the car window.

He had kept this thought buried for a reason – it was just too painful to contemplate.

His breathing slowed as he recalled the last few hours. It had all been a whirlwind. Once they had received the proper coordinates of the circling plane, they had wasted no time gathering forces and planning the event. A whole squadron of vehicles – police, fire, and ambulances, trailed behind their car, ready and equipped for all possible scenarios.

Viktor still wasn’t sure how he managed to get clearance to join them – some sort of magic upon Alexei’s part, or more likely, he just got overlooked in all the confusion, but Viktor wasn’t questioning it, simply glad to be with them at all.

All of this had happened in such a short amount of time. Viktor hadn’t even had time to go home and feed Makkachin, although he trusted that Yurio, who had been turning up to his house every morning for ice skating practice, would find Makkachin and take care of him in his absence. He had sent him and everyone else who was important a quick text that he would be out for a while and to not worry in the hopes that they wouldn’t launch their own investigative search.

It had been such a crazy twenty-four hours, filled with emotional highs and lows. It was no wonder he had fallen asleep on the way there.

Alexei and Nina’s voice filtered in slowly, and as he came to, he could make out some of their conversation. Based on their hushed and muted tone, Viktor would wager that they believed he was still asleep.

“ … you’ve considered what this means, yes?” Nina whispered.

A quiet huff was released alongside the sound of Alexei clenching the steering wheel. “Yes … yes of course I’ve considered it. I know what we could find here – I’ve known it ever since we got the positive DNA and fingerprinting results back.”

It was quiet for a while before Nina spoke again.

“I want to make sure that you’re ready for all possibilities; that even if we do find him, that you can’t let it keep you from ending all of this.”

Viktor frowned as he considered her words. It didn’t make sense that they were talking about Yuuri … if anything the only person they could be referring to was –

“Volya would want you to end this, Alexei, no matter what you find.”

“You don’t think I know this?” Alexei shot back, a note of resentment curling in his tone.

“Yes, but Alexei,” Nina responded urgently, quiet tone now all but forgotten, “You say this now - and yes – you may completely and sincerely believe it, but when it comes to the heat of the moment -”

“Stop it!” Alexei said quietly, voice shaking slightly.  “Stop what you’re saying, Barkova. There’s no way that I would just drop everything like that.”

Viktor started as a loud smack met his ears. He tilted his head up, and from this position, he could see Nina’s hand clenched into a fist against the dashboard.

“But I know _you_ , Alexei! You say this now, and honestly, I would never doubt you if it was any other case, but this is your brother here.”

“Yes, but –”

“But nothing! I know the only reason you became a detective was to find your brother. I know that all these years you’ve used this job as a means to an end – I’m sure you’ve cared about all the other cases, of course, but deep down you’ve really just seen them as stepping stones until the day when you could solve Volya’s case.”

Nina was breathing heavily now, while Alexei remained unerringly quiet.

“Yuuri is our number one priority here, Alexei. Nothing that we find in there, barring Volya alive and well, takes precedence.”

Nina quieted for a moment, releasing a long breath.

“Promise me, Alexei,” she murmured.

Alexei’s breath hitched.

“Promise me that if it comes to it, you’ll – you’ll let him go.”

Viktor felt very uncomfortable. This was obviously a private conversation between the two of them. He agreed wholeheartedly with Nina – and why wouldn’t he? Yuuri was his everything, after all, yet a part of him could see where Alexei was coming from.

If there was anything that clued him into finding Yuuri, Viktor would spare no expense in finding it, even to the detriment of all else.

“I – I promise,” came the muted reply.

Viktor glanced at Nina who seemed to deflate upon the words. Her nails scraped against her jeans as she clenched them into fists.

“Thank you,” she whispered, so quietly that Viktor nearly thought he imagined her response. She turned and looked out the window, blonde hair shifting as it covered the side of her face.

Accepting the dismissal for what it was, Viktor quickly closed his eyes. He’d much rather pretend he’d been asleep this whole time than face the awkwardness of intruding on a very intimate conversation.

He tried to still his mind, but now with his eyes closed and the conversation over, he had no distraction from the very real and pressing reality of the situation.

This ride; the jilted conversation; Viktor’s failed attempt at sleep.

They were all means of killing time before everything happened.

And happen it would.

Viktor’s hands shook, clenching into fists.

It would all be over soon – of that he was certain.

The hours dwindled on, the minutes turned into seconds, and the car drove into the dying light, advancing further down the path that would lead them to the end.

 

* * *

 

He was lost in every since of the word.

He didn’t know where he was, who he was, or even when he was.

It was strange, though.

He felt no desire to find out why he was here, in this vast stretch of emptiness and solitude. Where burning curiosity and self-instincts should have been, instead he felt nothing but apathy and hollowness.

Who was to say that reality was better than staying in here, where nothing would ever befall him? He wasn’t quite ready to risk leaving his sanctuary, not unless there was something worthwhile to draw him out, something worth the risk of facing reality.

No.

For now, he was perfectly content to stay here, where time had no meaning and reality ceased its relentless buzzing for just a moment.

He had been fighting for so, so long.

And now – finally, he could rest.

 

***

 

The young man awoke with a start.

He would have been content to keep sleeping – he could feel just how exhausted he truly was, but before he could make that conscious decision, a horrible, sharp pain shot through his ankles.

Sure enough, when he glanced down, a rather startling sight might his eyes.

They were mottled in shades of red, purple, and blue, grossly distorted under bulbous swelling. The right ankle was unquestionably the worse of the two, however.

He tried flexing it experimentally, and nearly shouted out as a sharp pain licked up his leg as if he had been stabbed. He panted, trying to calm his racing heart. Just that little movement had caused him to break out into a light sheen of sweat.

He closed his eyes in defeat.

He just wanted to go back to sleep. Nothing here made sense; he couldn’t even recall how he got this injury in the first place.

And with that in mind, the young man did his best to shut himself off from the pain.

He drifted once more.

 

***

 

He awoke several times.

There could have been minutes, hours, or even days between his waking moments.

He couldn’t tell.

Time was starting to blur, and the realities he occupied seemed to meld into one another, distorting the lines between sleep and wakefulness.

At some point, a presence entered.

His heart leapt when she entered his view. She was familiar – he couldn’t quite remember how he knew her, but she was the first real thing he had encountered in this never-ending emptiness.

He clung to her desperately.

And when this woman reminded him of his name – _his very own name!_ – he knew without a doubt that she would be the key to his salvation, that she would free him of this confusing and endless fog.

She will fill in the gaps, she promised.

And he found himself relaxing, beyond grateful to his mother.

His name was Hoshito.

And this, she promised him, was the beginning of a new life.

 

***

 

Hoshito’s mother watched him closely as he hobbled down the hall on the crutches. His left ankle really wasn’t too bad. It smarted a little as he hopped down the hall, but with the crutches and the mild pain, it was a manageable means of locomotion.

When he made it to the top of the stairs, he faltered and glanced back nervously. She gave him a soft smile and swooped down, picking him and his crutches up quite gracefully for a woman of such thin stature. Hoshito’s head rested against her chest, and he could feel her heart beat against his ear.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about this injury, Hoshito. Before you know it, you’ll be back on your feet once more,” she soothed. He clutched her shawl as she spoke, feeling the vibrations of her voice as she spoke.

She told him that he had injured his feet while ice skating out on the lake nearby. A failed landing, she said, had resulted in his current predicament.

Even though Hoshito couldn’t remember how he injured himself, he found this to be a plausible explanation. He did have vague memories of skating on lake, after all.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she lowered him down carefully. He leaned against the wall on his good foot and clasped the crutches that she offered him. She looked him up and down, and after a moment, her expression turned serious.

“We’ve got a very busy night ahead of us, dear,” she said, a sharp look in her eyes. “I’m going to serve us dinner, and then we need to leave as quickly as possible.”

She cocked her head and began walking. Hoshito scrambled on his crutches for a second, stumbling along as he tried to match her pace.

“Why are we leaving?” he asked breathlessly, a bit tired just from that short stretch. He settled into a chair at a table as she bustled around the kitchen.

She heaved out a large pot and ran it under the tap. With her back turned, it was difficult to assess her response, but if the tenseness of her back was any indication, it appeared that Hoshito had crossed a line of some sort.

“He’s coming for us, Hoshito.”

He swallowed as she heaved the pot onto the stove. Back still turned, she grabbed a distorted canister and screwed the lid off, peering inside.

Warning bells were going off in his head. He knew he shouldn’t keep asking her, especially not when this was such a sensitive topic, but his curiosity was peaked.

Hoshito inhaled shakily.

“Wh – who’s coming?” he whispered.

It was deathly quite for a moment. Hoshito’s breath came faster as he awaited her response, and the house groaned as a gust of wind buffeted its side.

A loud ‘pop’ struck the silence, and something plastic clattered to the ground. Hoshito glanced down, watching as a round top rolled on the floor before it toppled to its side, paradoxically speeding up as it got closer and closer to the ground.

It continued to circle and make noise, and Hoshito bit his lip, unnerved by the silence and her lack of response. When it settled, his eyes tracked to his mother, startling when he noticed a small clump of oatmeal piled near her feet.

Her back was hunched, and she was shaking.

The canister clattered to the ground, broken and distorted beyond repair.

His mother turned around slowly, frazzled hair covering half of her face. She eyed Hoshito through her fringe, and for the first time since waking, he didn’t feel safe around her.  

He shivered internally as her eyes glinted.

The warning alarms in his head were blaring now.

“You know who’s coming, dear.”

Her voice was icy; her lips, pinched.

Hoshito’s mouth parted. He inhaled a few times, trying to think of something to say to calm her down; he never meant to rile her up.

“That man will stop at nothing to find us. I’ve told you countless times and you never seem to listen, do you?” She took a deliberate step closer to Hoshito. She loomed over him, steam from the boiling pot framing her face and frazzled hair.

Wide eyed, Hoshito could do nothing but stare, transfixed by her penetrating gaze. He watched as the anger in her face slowly drained, replaced by a blank, assessing mask.

“And it’s all thanks to you, isn’t it?” She took a step closer, leaning into the table where he sat. Hoshito found himself inching back into his chair, putting as much space between them as possible, but it was no use – she simply leaned closer.

“It’s funny,” she remarked, a pensive look in her eyes. “I thought you had learned this time around. You were so obedient in the beginning. I didn’t have to employ nearly as many punishments with you as I have in the past.” She exhaled forcefully, eyes narrowing. “But that was clearly my mistake, for you managed to disobey me in the worst way possible, outshining any of your past disobediences.”

Hoshito shuddered, turning his head away as she grazed his cheek with a softness that completely contrasted her words and tone. Her hand tracked down his face, catching on his skin. It stopped when reached the bottom of his jaw.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said abruptly. “The sooner we head out the safer we’ll be.” She stepped away from him and turned off the stove, just keeping the boiling water from spilling over the edge.

Hoshito closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, then stood up shakily on his crutches. He began hobbling his way to the stairs when she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No need to gather your things, dear. Where were going you won’t need anything else.”

She squeezed his shoulder once more and told him to head to the back door as she gathered a few things for herself.

Hoshito’s gut clenched uncomfortably. Everything about this was screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

And it was so achingly familiar for some reason.

He just couldn’t put his finger on why.

When she met him at the back door, she carried a duffle bag. She threw him a heavy winter coat and slippers, which he struggled to put on with the crutches to contend with, but once that was done, she opened the door and he hobbled outside.

A bright sunset painted the sky, for once shining through without the dreary snow clouds covering its rays. It was one of those spectacularly lovely ones, lighting the evening sky in shades of brilliant reds and soft oranges.

It was nice to see the sun after so long, he thought suddenly.

She grabbed him by the shoulder, and as they hobbled along in the backyard, he was surprised to see the car nowhere in sight. Indeed, she appeared to be leading him into the forest.

The uncomfortable feeling increased in intensity.

The snow was a nightmare to battle with the crutches. His progress was slow going, and every time he looked up at his mother, she appeared frustrated and restless at his pace. She would clasp his shoulder and tug him along, but he could only go so fast, especially with his partially injured left ankle.

“Where are we going?” he gasped out, turning his head to glance as house disappeared for good behind the foliage.

His heart clenched in his chest.

“Back to the start,” she replied, offering no other explanation. Hoshito, accepting that he wouldn’t get anything else from her, closed his mouth and instead focused on navigating through the rough forest terrain without collapsing from fatigue and pain.

 

When he caught a glimpse of the sky again, the sunset had changed, bathing the sky in shades of deep red.

 

* * *

 

Alexei squinted into the horizon, pulling down the sun visor so he could see properly. It was already tense enough in the car; he didn’t need to add blindness on top of it.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

He could cut the tension with a knife in here. Out of the corner of his eye, Nina was staring out the window, putting as much distance between herself and him after the heated discussion they had earlier. Her leg bounced, an obvious sign of her agitation. Alexei could feel it lightly shaking the car.

Viktor wasn’t faring much better. Every time he had glanced in the rear-view mirror in the last hour, Viktor had been staring blankly ahead, as if he was transfixed with the back of Alexei’s headrest. Viktor was usually quite animated, but this – it was like he was a statue.

Alexei returned his eyes to the road.

He had to pull a few strings to allow Viktor to come. He relied a great portion on oversight in the heat of the moment. It was go-time once they received the geographic coordinates from the airline company – no one had time for any superfluous things like civilian involvement, but regardless, he had filled out some paper work, filing Viktor as a temporary consultant.

It would have been caught as faulty any other time and would take little effort to invalidate, but with everyone rushing around setting the extraction up, no one questioned it.

He’d have to get rid of it as soon as they returned, but it served its purpose if nothing else.

He only could hope that Viktor would be mentally together once they got to their destination. The coordinates that the airline had given them included a fairly wide radius - about a couple of kilometers - but as Nina predicted, a quick satellite viewing of the area displayed only one home within those parameters.

They had finally, _finally_ found Kitagawa’s location.

Alexei loosened his grip on the steering wheel.

He exhaled slowly.

Finally.

It had been a long seven years.

When he glanced at the sunset again, it had changed drastically in the few minutes he had been contemplating. It was much less intense now, descending into the horizon as the night sky began replacing its brilliance.

Alexei flipped up the sun visor, finding that he didn’t need it any more.

It was time to lay this case to rest once and for all.

 

* * *

 

Hoshito stumbled along the forest floor, wheezing at this point. The pain in his left ankle was increasing. If it wasn’t for the cold numbing some of the pain, he probably wouldn’t be able to walk on it.

They had been stumbling along for nearly half an hour, and he was exhausted.

“Please,” he gasped. He stopped and leaned against a tree. “Please just let me take a break.”

His mother had walked a few steps beyond him, but stopped upon his request. Hoshito heaved against the tree, resting his head against the trunk as he closed his eyes. He fluttered them open after a moment, recoiling when he took note of his right ankle.

It certainly looked worse now. Some of the swelling had decreased, but now that it was gone, he could tell that it was clearly bent at a wrong angle. His stomach lurched as he dry heaved against the tree, but as he hadn’t eaten in a long time, nothing but bile came up.

Tearing his eyes away from his ankle, he looked to his mother who remained with her back turned to him.

“How did I get this injury again? What jump did I try?”

It was silent once again. The dying light of the sunset contrasted her body against the forest.

“A triple axel.”

She spoke quietly, and with the stillness of her body, Hoshito wondered if he had heard her correctly.

“A triple axel,’ he repeated, frowning.

That was a jump he had learned long ago, wasn’t it? He had prided himself on his ability to do such a tricky jump at an early age, and had essentially made it one of his signatures.

She turned around and clasped his arm once again.

“We need to keep moving. We’re almost there.”

Hoshito let her guide him along, but his mind was elsewhere. It was startling, how that memory had come to him completely unbidden. But he was more certain of this fact than anything else upon waking up earlier in the day.

It would have been completely out of character for him to mess up this badly on a triple axel – something that he knew down to his bones and could perform in his sleep.

Maybe if he kept fixating on it, he thought relentlessly, other things might soon become clear.

 

* * *

 

It had turned into a clear night. Alexei peered into the sky, transfixed by the stars. He had lived in St. Petersburg all his life, and that close to the city, you were lucky to see a couple of stars in the sky.

Out here in the country, removed from the congestion and pollution, you could see it all.

He tore his eyes away and glanced at the clock.

20:07

They were nearly there, but the lateness of the hour was unsettling. He never liked busting cases at the dead of night.

Too many things could be overlooked when the shadows of darkness blanked the landscape. It also just unnerved him to see the clock tick away, taking precious minutes they didn’t have to spare. It showed just how much time was passing by, how they had no choice but to kill time as they journeyed to their destination.

He pressed the accelerator down an inch. As they sped up, the entourage of police cars and ambulances trailed behind him.

Nina perked up at the sound of the accelerator revving. He could feel her staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll feel better once we get there,” he offered as a means of explanation.

When she didn’t reply he moved on, addressing Viktor after the hour of his silence.

“You remember what I told you Viktor?”

“Mmm”

Alexei huffed, not appeased by that response.

“Repeat what I said to you,” he prodded.

He heard a sigh from the back before a weary voice spoke up.

“I’m to stay with the other detectives, out of the direct line, for the entirety of our time there. I shouldn’t shoot my gun unless it’s a case of life or death.’

Alexei nodded.

“Thank you, Viktor,” he conceded. He didn’t want to treat the man like a child, but at this point he seemed to need a reminder.

“It’s absolutely imparitive that you stay with the group, no matter what happens. Even if you see Yuuri, you can’t go to him. There could be numerous traps in place. The kidnapper could be hiding near him. If you interfere before we clear an area it could end up hurting Yuuri, especially if she bargains his life with us.”

“I – I understand,” he replied.

Alexei eased off the accelerator, relaxing upon hearing his reply. They were less than ten minutes away now. When they arrived, it would just be his car and a few detectives at first. The larger cars would stay back to be more discrete, and everyone would turn their headlights off.

They continued in silence for the remainder of the trip.

No more words needed to be spoken. Everyone understood the gravity of this moment - the culmination of all the pain and struggle and strife of the past month and a half.

For Alexei, though, it had been seven years of this.

Come hell or high water, Alexei was determined to end it once and for all.

He inched up the road. The GPS stated that they had half a kilometer until they arrived. He slowed the car when he saw something on the road just ahead, the head lights of his car illuminating it.

It was another car – beaten down by the looks of it. He slowed to a stop.

“We should keep moving,” Nina spoke quickly. “I’ll tell Pestov to stop his car and investigate this. We need to check out the house first.” Alexei nodded and drove on while Nina repeated her instructions into her receiver.

They were just twenty meters out when Alexei shut off his headlights and inched into a gravel driveway that jutted out from the side of the main road.

As he drove up the driveway, he shut off the car when a faint outline of a two-story house came into view. The three of them sat there for a moment when Viktor spoke up, more confidence and assurity in his voice than he could recall in quite a while.

“Let’s go get Yuuri back.”

 

* * *

 

Hoshito collapsed against the outline of an icy lake. His mother hovered over him, shuffling in her bag. He was so exhausted that he could probably fall asleep right here, despite the pervasive cold.

“Come on, Hoshito. We’re going out on the lake.”

“Wh – what?” he asked in disbelief.

She couldn’t be serious; there was no way he’d make it across with his crutches. He didn’t want to disobey her, but he really didn’t see how this was possible.

“But my feet, I don’t think -”

“Crawl.”

She glided across the ice a few meters ahead of him, still clutching the bag. She had apparently put on ice skates while he was catching his breath.

“I – ”

“Now,” she spoke icily.

Hoshito bit his lip and started inching across the ice where she stood. It took a while, but he eventually made it to a deeper part of the lake. His hands burned against the cold, and as he shuffled along, he tugged his coat down to cover the palms of his hands, but when he brushed against a ragged, rough spot in the ice, he paused and pulled down the sleeve.

He tracked the lines in the ice. It was obvious that it had fractured recently and had refrozen in a haphazard formation.

He frowned.

This, like the triple axel, was bringing memories back to the surface.

Falling.

Pain.

Cold, cold, cold.

His finger caught on a particularity hard jut in the ice, and as a prickle of blood trickled out, a horrible, awful, terrible memory resurfaced.

It was his mother.

She was watching him drown.

And she was doing _nothing_.

When he glanced up he couldn’t find her in the dark. The only points of light now were the moon and the constellations. Ursa major was out tonight, and normally it filled him with joy to see it, but this time Hoshito groaned, clasping his head as an onslaught of memories assaulted him.

_Shick._

He heard her before he saw her.

“It’s time for us to part ways, dear,” she remarked, and Hoshito struggled to focus on her in the dark. The only way he knew she was near him was soft glint of a knife that she held in her grasp.

Hoshito shuddered as more memories flooded his head. It was too much all at once.

_The knives, the rats, the rope._

_The lake, his glasses, the workbooks._

He could hear the sound of her moving closer to him, the ice crunching under her skates.

 “Do not fear, my child. For each and every time you’ve always come back to me. We are just taking a break for the moment.”

_The absolute fear, the mind-numbing isolation, the pervasive hopelessness._

“I love you more than anything. I know I’ll find you again. I always do.”

_Love._

The love that he held deep to his heart, which had become buried during his time here.

The love he shared with so many people.

With his parents, Mari, Phichit.

With Yurio, Yakov, and the entire skating team.

_With Viktor._

Viktor, Viktor, Viktor!

Yuuri shuddered, tears of relief, of fear, of catharsis trailing down his cheeks.

He smiled grimly as he tilted his head up, meeting her gaze head on.

“You’re not my mother, are you?”

He couldn’t quite see her face, but her silence spoke volumes.

He smiled as best as he could, although it likely came out as more of a grimace.

Even if this was this end, even if he never saw Viktor again, he could at least go down knowing he never truly gave her what she wanted.

She would never get his obedience.

Not for as long as he lived.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger *gasp* I know you weren't expecting that! But seriously I really put you guys through the ringer with this story - I think almost every chapter has ended on a cliffhanger? Either way y'all are angels for putting up with it, as well as my crazy busy schedule!
> 
> I'm going to continue to be busy the rest of summer, but I'll do my best to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. (If you really want to motivate me, just drop me a line and tell me your thoughts - your comments fuel me like nothing else!)
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading! This journey is almost at an end, and im endlessly grateful that you all have stuck with me during it <3.


	13. Judgement Day

If tears could build a stairway,

And memories a lane,

I’d walk right up to Heaven

And bring you home again.

**—Unknown**

 

**Chapter 13: Judgement Day**

The house was foreboding, its crooked outline jutting starkly against the rapidly darkening sky. It rested on a slight incline, and as Alexei trekked cautiously towards the front steps, snow crunching beneath his boots, he felt an intense chill of unease crawling up his back, raising the hairs on his forearms.

Pistol aloft, his shoulders tensed up with dread.

He had never had so much invested in a single case. Physically and mentally, he was nearly at his wits end, but the emotional aspect was by far the worst.

_Volya; his little brother, his own flesh and blood, wrongfully ripped from his life far too early._

It always came back to him.

Every case he had worked on was tinged with thoughts of his brother, but none so much as this one; it promised answers to the seven year mystery that defined his life.

Alexei reached the start of the wooden stairs. Nina and his other field agents flanked him. Viktor, he knew, was surrounded by the other agents in the driveway as they awaited further instruction. The medical personnel remained on call near the street.

He frowned, hand tensing around the handle of the pistol.

There were so many lives at stake here.

He couldn’t afford to get side tracked with his own emotions; he simply couldn’t. The alternative could be disastrous.

Clearing his mind, he began the slow climb up the stairs. They protested his weight, creaking and groaning with each step.

Alexei winced. It was always times like these when even the slightest of disturbances made the most sound.

Alexei reached the top of the stairs and placed his hand on the door knob. He tested it slowly, and surprisingly enough, the handle gave under the slight pressure.

It was unlocked. Interesting.

Heart beating rapidly, he turned and gave a brief nod to his detectives. They all knew what to do in this case – a rapid search and seizure with the least loss of life possible was the best-case scenario here.

Alexei gave the knob a bit more pressure and opened the door swiftly. In an instant, he and the others flooded the house, each taking a different path. Alexei marched stealthily into the back of the house, and as he came to a doorway, he did a rapid-fire scan of the room before entering fully.

The house was decrepit, dilapidated, disastrous beyond imagination. A damp, musty smell pervaded the living room he was in. Stacks upon stacks of rubbish littered the floor. Normally, it only took him a minute to clear a room, but the heaping mounds of litter and dim lighting impeded him greatly.

As he made his rounds, he stopped abruptly when the glint of something caught his eye. Alexei reached into his pocket and pulled out a miniature flashlight, shining it to his right.

He squinted as his eyes adjusted, and what met his gaze sent a chill up his spine.

It was undoubtedly a display for knives – knives that Alexei was acutely familiar with. He’d recognize that ornate metal work anywhere.

They had the right place, all right.

There were five slots to hold knives, but only three were filled. Alexei itched with curiosity. He’d bet anything that these were some of her murder weapons that she wanted to display proudly. If he could just compare them to the knife found at Xue’s murder scene …

He shook his head. He’d look into that later.

He took a mental note of their location, resolving to come back. The priority right now was finding Yuuri alive and well.

Moving on, he eased his way into the next room – a kitchen by the looks of it. Alexei eyed it wearily, doing a quick scan before edging his way in. A small pile of _something_ lay near the oven – likely some sort of food, as what appeared to be a crushed canister rested nearby. Two chairs sat haphazardly by the table, pushed out as if their occupants left in a hurry.

Uneasiness swelled in his stomach – this was never a good sign. They needed to clear the house as soon as possible and begin searching the grounds.

He came closer to inspect the debris by the oven. Frowning, he nudged the canister lightly with his foot, turning it over.

Oatmeal.

He cocked his head, inching towards the oven to inspect the pot. He raised the back of his palm over the rim.

It was still warm.

Whatever happened here was fairly recent, and based on the lack of communication from his agents, there appeared to be no one in here.

_They really needed to get a move on._

Alexei jumped as the sound of pounding footsteps echoed from the floor below, standing defensively with his pistol aloft. When Nina’s blonde head pocked through the basement steps, he relaxed, however her expression was far from soothing.

“Alexei,” she murmured urgently, “the basement has been cleared, but there’s countless evidence down there, things that’ll likely tell us about the other kidnappings.”

Alexei nodded sharply. They’d check that out later. With luck, he might find out more about Volya.

“Good. Kitchen’s cleared too. From the looks of it, I’d say no one’s here right now. Once we get confirmation from the others upstairs we’ll head out.”

Nina bit her lip, shifting in place. She was agitated – that much was obvious. Alexei could feel it too. Whenever they were involved in police raids, there was so much adrenaline and anticipation involved. To idly sit by and wait when they were prepared for action was one of the worst kinds of torture; it was far too easy for the mind to run amok that way.

They had discussed their plan of action before coming here with the others. Not finding Kitagawa and Yuuri in the house was the worst-case scenario, other than finding him out right murdered.

Alexei shifted uneasily, checking his phone for any signs of an update. No one was saying anything right now; it was eerily quiet.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and when he glanced over to Nina, she flinched, halfway hiding some sort of book behind her leg. When he met her eyes, she smiled uneasily.

Alexei’s tensed. It wasn’t like Nina to hide things from him, especially in a case as sensitive as this.

“Barkova,” Alexei began, voice strained, “what do you have there?”

Nina simply stared at him, and from her conflicted expression, she appeared to be waring with something.

Alexei took a slow, deliberate step forward.

“Show me what it is.”

He continued his slow walk forward, eyeing her intently. After a few tense seconds, she sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them her face was resolute.

“Alexei, I don’t think that now -”

“Detective Kozar!”

A loud knock heralded the arrival of another detective who had been scanning the perimeter.

Alexei’s attention snapped to the back door where Detective Zurov stood. He closed the door and hurried to his side.

“Report.”

Zurov exhaled sharply. “We’ve discovered two trails of footprints that lead into the woods and beyond. Based on the quality of the prints, they look fairly recent - perhaps in the past twenty minutes or so, maybe even less.”

_Shit!_

Kitagawa was on the move with Yuuri. They _were_ looking in the wrong place the entire time. She already had a head start on them. They needed to move, now!

It was do or die time.

His mind clicked into overdrive. If their predictions were right, they only had a few minutes to find and save Yuuri, assuming he was still alive.

Alexei glanced sharply at Nina. She stared back, unflinchingly, apparently set in her decision. He’d have to find out about that book after all of this was said and done.

“Finish clearing the rest of the house and then join us in the woods. I’m moving on. Kitagawa and Yuuri can’t be far off.”

Nina nodded quickly, and Alexei turned his back on her.

He passed through the living room on his way out, and as he brushed against a heaping pile, a sliding puzzle fell to the ground, sending its pieces every which way.

The clattering of its pieces against the wooden floor echoed in his mind as he crunched through the snow, heart picking up tempo alongside the pounding of footsteps.

The light of the sunset was dying on the horizon, and what little light they had from the moon was getting quickly obscured by a heavy cloud cover.

Alexei cursed, clicking his flashlight on to help light the path. He didn’t like how it gave away his position so easily, but they had little choice right now.

They knew quite distinctly that Kitagawa preferred to dispose of her victims far away from her residence, and from the satellite imagery they collected of this area, a portion of Lake Ladoga sat just half a kilometer north of the house.

From what they had discovered through Xue’s death, it was safe to assume that Kitagawa would leave Yuuri somewhere along the lake shore.

And now, with the addition of the footprints leading directly that way, it was impossible to deny.

Yuuri Katsuki was on death row, and Alexei could only hope that they would make it before his time was up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor’s mind was a maelstrom of emotions, clashing and warring as toxic thoughts teased his mind incessantly.

He stared at the delipidated house, fingers clenching and unclenching as he watched the detectives go in.

_Without him._

Yuuri could be in there, desperate and alone and afraid, and yet Viktor was out here, safely ensconced away with the other detectives and medical personnel.

It was absolutely horrifying to think that his Yuuri had been living in this hovel for nearly two months. Viktor only let that thought cross his mind briefly before violently shoving it to the back of his mind. These types of thoughts would derail him, absolutely do him in if he let them linger for too long.

He couldn’t afford to break down, because god only knew what state Yuuri will be in once found, and Viktor _had_ to be that rock for him.

Viktor shifted and vibrated as he stood by the car. The door to the house was closed. Alexei, Nina, and the others had been in there for several minutes without any sign of action.

Viktor understood why he couldn’t go with them, of course he did, and Alexei had already done him an enormous favor by allowing him to come this far, but that didn’t stop him from feeling incredibly antsy, and a bit inadequate to boot.

Viktor was Yuuri’s fiancé – he should be able to save him! But as the awkward feel of the pistol in his hand continued to remind him, he had absolutely no experience in this type of situation.

For now, at least, it was better to sit still and wait.

Viktor looked away from the house as the detectives scanning the perimeter caught his eye. One in particular stood rigidly still in the backyard. Viktor’s eyes narrowed as the detective crouched down, running his hands over the snow.

If only he was close enough to see what he was looking at …

Viktor eyed the two detectives that lingered near him and the medical crew. They appeared rather vigilant, scanning the area and never relaxing the upright hold they had on their pistols.

A light buzz sounded, and one of the detectives lowered her arm, reading a message quickly on her phone.

“Shit,” she murmured.

“What is it?” the other demanded, angling his body away from Viktor’s as he addressed her.

They were slightly distracted, Viktor noted, and the medical personnel were occupied as they tested and set up their machinery.

“Pestov says the car has to be a getaway … ”

As the detectives continued to talk, Viktor slipped quietly around the side of the house, the dark shadows and fading light just hiding his departure.

After a few stealthy movements, he stood just meters from the crouched detective, and at this vantage point he could clearly see what had him so interested.

There were footprints in the snow … and not just one set, but two.

Viktor’s eyes widened as he followed their progression into the woods, disappearing into the brush.

The worst-case scenario that Alexei had briefed them on, something that had sent chills down Viktor’s spin when he heard it, seemed to be happening.

There was no other explanation for the trail of footprints and the eerily quiet house.

Viktor began shaking.

The detective stood abruptly, likely coming to the same conclusion as Viktor himself. He watched him stride into the house, and once he was out of his line of sight Viktor bolted.

 _To hell_ with his promise to stand by.

This wasn’t something that could be talked about in theory here, at least not to Viktor. It was that way for the detectives, but to Viktor the ink of Yuuri’s name that peppered the documents they’d gone over was more than just a collection of characters printed on a page.

It was his fiancé - his life, his love, _his everything._

And if Viktor had even the slightest chance to save the very light that had saved him? He would take it – take it and run with it desperately.

Besides, Alexei had said that time would be of the utmost importance if they found that Kitagawa wasn’t in her home. He would likely have a couple minutes head start on the others, and in a situation like this that could make all the difference.

Viktor slowed as he reached further into the forest, eventually stopping when he realized he couldn’t see a meter in front of him. He fumbled for his phone, heart clenching when a photo of Yuuri’s laughing face lit up the lock screen.

Viktor remembered taking that photo. It was of their first day together in their St. Petersburg apartment. Yuuri had laughed himself silly when he saw Viktor’s failed attempt at making pasta, saying that it seriously took talent to burn pasta in water.

Now that moment seemed far away, almost like a dream.

Tears prickling his eyes, Viktor swiped through the phone and activated the light, Yuuri’s smiling face long gone. He started running again, reminding himself fiercely that he’d see Yuuri again in just a matter of minutes.

Viktor didn’t care that he stood a high chance of injury or death due to his lack of experience. He didn’t care that he was breaking his promise.

Because in that moment there was only Yuuri - Yuuri and the indomitable forest that separated them, the beating of his heart, and the fear that saturated each exhaled breath as his feet pounded into the ground, bringing him one step closer to the end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri’s nail scratched into the ice, tensing as the kidnapper stood unnervingly still. Her head was bowed, frazzled hair spilling over her face.

As the wind picked up, her hair flew chaotically in the breeze. It parted across her face, and for just a moment Yuuri could see her expression.

Her head was lowered, forehead jutting out farther than the rest, allowing only the very tops of her intense eyes to peer at Yuuri through her parted hair. Her lips were downturned and just slightly barred.

Yuuri shuddered.

He told himself he’d be strong whatever came next, but that didn’t stop the all-pervasive fear that saturated him now. He was in a most desperate situation – alone, practically defenseless, and with no way to contact anyone.

This would very likely be his last few moments alive.

But oh, he’d sure give her _hell_ if he was going down. That much he could do. This line of thought settled him somewhat, a bit of the earlier fear slowly replacing with riotous anger.

They continued to stare at each other, Yuuri growing increasingly agitated by the second, and just when it seemed like she’d never move, a low chuckle projected across the ice.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, haven’t you, Hoshito?” She titled her head up, bits of flyaway hair still attached to her face. “I can’t begin to imagine what’s infected your mind so thoroughly to spew such ridiculous lies.”

She held the knife aloft, peering into its reflective edge. Even though sparse vestiges of light remained in the sky, the glint of the knife was like a lighthouse, drawing Yuuri’s gaze to it in a fraction of a second.

“There’s only one thing, really, that I can think of that has gotten to you,” she said, apparently transfixed by the blade. She looked up abruptly.

“It’s your father, isn’t it? He’s contacted you somehow, perhaps through the email you sent. He’s – he’s infected your mind with these traitorous thoughts,” she raved, eyes wild.

Yuuri reeled in shock, not from her accusation, but from her demeanor. In his time with her, he had never seen her quite so disjointed, so unhinged. She had always had some small modem of control to her speech, as if she had one more trick up her sleeve.

The way she held herself now was chilling.

“No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to keep you safe, he’s always right there – one step ahead of me,” she continued, voice becoming increasingly high pitched. “I’ve done all I can. I’ve been a good mother. I have! I know I did better … ” Her words became unintelligible as she escalated. Yuuri’s eyes stayed trained on her knife as her arms flew back and forth in wild gesticulations.

Running wasn’t the option here, clearly.

But he might just stand a chance yet if he could get a hand on that knife …

He had to get her on the ice with him. It was the only position Yuuri stood a chance in. With his shot ankles, the ground was the best way to level the playing field.

Her ramblings cut off abruptly as her face cleared. She straightened up and glided slowly over to Yuuri, knife aloft.

“Well, not anymore. Not anymore. This ends today, Hoshito,” she said. Her voice was as hard as steel. “I’ll see you soon, my dear. This is but a temporary goodbye.”

And as she he lunged forward, Yuuri braced himself.

There were many times that his anxiety had left him breathless, paralyzed, unable to function as his life seemed to spiral all around him with reckless abandon.

This wasn’t one of them.

Animal instinct took over, and as the deadly knife came towards him, Yuuri threw himself to the side, using her momentum against her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to pull her down to the ice.

White hot, a hot flash of pain ripped across his right forearm as she slashed, but it was no use. The momentum of her movements and the near frictionless ice played to her disadvantage, and she tumbled down to the ice with him.

Yuuri had little time to feel triumphant, however, because almost as soon as she hit the ice, she snarled, letting forth a burst of energy that flipped their positions.

The kidnapper stared down at him from above, the knife still precariously in her right hand. She smiled wickedly, giving him little time to react as she plunged it in a downward motion. She nearly succeeded, and it was just by a hair’s width that he caught her wrist, using his other hand to forcefully push her torso away. 

The knife was just a few centimeters from his heart, gaining and loosing centimeters as their efforts warred with one another.

Yuuri watched the tip with dread as it nearly grazed his abdomen, afraid to even take a deep breath. Sweat beaded on his hairline. It trickled down his temple as the knife raised and lowered against the opposing forces.

She chuckled breathlessly.

“That’s my Hoshito – always so stubborn. But you can just be a good boy for your mother, now, can’t you?” she simpered. Her voice was strained yet cloying over the sounds of her harsh pants, but it only made Yuuri that much more determined to fight. He had to at least try to make it out of here, even if the situation was so hopeless, even if he was clearly outmatched.

He had to do it for _them._

He clenched his teeth.

Yes.

He had to do it for Viktor.

With Viktor’s loving eyes and smiling face saturating his thoughts, he surged against her, wrenching her fingers from the knife.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor had never been more focused in his life.

Sights, sounds, and thoughts flitted across his mind, as quickly discarded and forgotten like the millions of snowflakes that fell during a storm.

It was like someone had turned up the frame rate of the movie. Viktor felt like he was sensing everything around him all at once.

He darted through the forest, using only the light of his phone to guide him.

Distantly, he could hear sounds of the detectives following him, but that was the last thing preoccupying his mind.

The only thought he held on to was Yuuri.

Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

No matter how hard he tried to run, Viktor would never be running fast enough, not when Yuuri was in so much danger.

The image of Yuuri from the video – weary and weak and empty – had haunted his dreams and thoughts relentlessly. It drove his mind wild with worry. If that was Yuuri from a few days ago, what would he be like now?

Viktor bit his lip, forcing his legs to go just a bit faster.

The notion that the Yuuri he had come to know, love, and cherish might be gone sent chills down Viktor’s spine and left him with a hollow pit in his stomach.

He had been struggling with this very concept day in and out, but right now, panting and dashing through the woods, he found that he didn’t care.

As long as they managed to save Yuuri, he’d gladly take him in any state. It didn’t matter what had happened to him, because Viktor would be right there every step of the way as he recovered. Yuuri was his not only his fiancé, he was his lover, his soulmate, his best friend; he was prepared to devote his very life to this man if that’s what it took to let him live once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The knife loosened in her grasp and it tumbled in slow motion, glinting as it caught the distant moonlight up above.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. The kidnapper released a harsh breath.

Yuuri darted a hand out, and for a moment he nearly had the knife in his grasp, but before he could get a proper holding a sharp pain traveled from his right ankle up through his leg, radiating all over his body.

She had kicked his bad ankle.

His thoughts came to a halting stop, and only one instinctive reaction remained.

_Pain._

Oh, god the pain!

Yuuri screamed.

Instinct forced him to curl in on himself. He gritted his teeth, flinching harshly as his ankle pulsated and throbbed alongside his racing heart. As his shouts tapered off and transitioned into whimpers, he became aware of harsh pants above him. As he focused his eyes, the glint of the blade greeted his face, and just beyond it, the image of the kidnapper’s twisted smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor’s breathing grew labored as he continued to run, lungs burning like fire in his chest. The muscles of his legs protested every frantic step.

But it didn’t matter, not when he was so close to Yuuri.

As Viktor ran, he faltered and came to a stop as a very loud and pained scream pierced the air. He flinched violently.

Oh – oh god!

He knew that voice. Oh, how he knew that voice!

“Yuuri!”  he screamed, only sparing a second more before sprinting in its direction.

Viktor was openly sobbing now. Tears prickled his eyes and flew away in the wind as he tore over branches and crunched through the unforgiving snow.

Still, he continued to cry out his name.

“Yuuri! I’m here! Yuuri!”

Just when it seemed like he’d never find the lake, the trees thinned until they parted around the shore of a frozen lake.

Viktor came to an abrupt halt, eyes darting rapidly as he assessed his surroundings.

The visibility was slightly better out here as the faint light from the moon shinned below, not quite covered by the clouds brewing above.

Viktor squinted out into the lake, heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the image he saw.

_Yuuri was there._

But above him was the kidnapper, aiming the sharp point of a knife towards his face. As his muscles tensed, a visceral rage ignited within.

How dare she.

_How dare she!_

Viktor screamed unintelligibly, sprinting toward Yuuri’s prone form on the ice. At the sound of his voice, both the kidnapper and Yuuri turned to look, and Viktor had never been greeted with a sight so simultaneously beautiful and horrifying in his life.

Yuuri was alive – oh thank god, he was alive!

He stared at Viktor like he was a messiah, and in that moment, he felt the gaping hole that had been gnawing at his soul heal.

“Viktor!” he cried.

Yuuri’s voice, so desperate, so _alive_ was all it took to spur him on further, miraculously managing to avoid slipping on the ice too much.

He was just meters away now.

“Yuuri! I’m coming!”

As Viktor charged forward on the ice, Kitagawa’s overcame her temporary shock, raising the knife higher over him, and Viktor screamed, but luckily her split-second distraction allowed Yuuri to shove her off his chest, but not before she managed to slice across his stomach.

Viktor launched himself at Kitagawa, forcing her and the knife away from Yuuri. As she stumbled, he landed a solid punch across her right cheekbone.

She crumpled to the ice like a puppet whose strings were cut.

Viktor exhaled harshly, seeing red. His hands clenched into fists, ready to pummel her into the ice for everything that she had done, everything that she had put Yuuri through.

Kitagawa sat up shakily, hair in disarray as it framed her face, and when she gazed at Viktor she was smirking.

Viktor reeled.

He knew she had to be a very troubled person to kidnap and murder multiple people, but now, seeing her smug expression first hand, all he could think of was the devil.

That … that _bitch!_

Muscles tensed, he nearly launched himself at her when a soft whimpering sound held him back. His mind froze.

He spun quickly, and the sight almost caused him to crumple in grief.

“No,” Viktor whispered, horrified beyond words.

Yuuri was on his back, hands pressed against his stomach as he tried to stop the blood flow, but it was a futile effort, because a dark red patch was quickly spreading all over the front of his shirt. Viktor’s eyes darted over him as he shook his head, lips quivering. Yuuri had a few other cuts on his arms, and those too leaked even more blood.

Yuuri’s met his gaze forlornly, and Viktor’s heart tore into two.

“No!” he howled, voice breaking.

He ran towards Yuuri, but a sharp prick at the base of his neck forced him to stop. The urge to go to Yuuri was so unbelievably strong at this point, but as the blade’s pressure increased on his neck, Viktor saw it for what it was – a warning.

A cackle sounded closely near his ear.

“I see you’ve come to collect him,” she panted, voice tinged with glee, “but just as always you’re too late, Isao.”

Viktor started shaking. Yuuri was still looking at him, although now his gaze seemed glassy, as if his thoughts were far away. If he could just get to him! If he could just -

“No matter what happens you won’t win. Hoshito’s already on his way out, and here I am with a knife in the back of your neck.”

She slid closer to Viktor, talking lowly in his ear as she wrapped her arm around his neck, knife held against the front of his neck. “You’ll have to stand here with me and watch him depart, knowing that you’ll never get to be with him again.”

Viktor bit his lip as his mouth quivered. Tears were trailing down his cheek in rivets. A light dusting of snow began to fall, swirling haphazardly in the light breeze. Yuuri’s moans tapered off, eyes fluttering.

“Yuuri,” he moaned, heart aching. The knife pressed into his neck. He could feel drops of blood bead down his throat as the pressure increased. Yuuri’s eyelids opened slowly at the sound of his call.

He - he didn’t know what to do! Yuuri was dying, a knife was at his throat, and they both only had minutes to live. The detectives were surely nearby, but if she held Viktor hostage, they wouldn’t be able to treat Yuuri in time. This was all so hopeless, so desperate, that Viktor found himself meeting Yuuri’s eyes, because if they both only had minutes left, he at least wanted to spend it with him.

“You’ll never truly have him back.”

The snow fell in earnest now, slowly blanketing the lake in a coating of white. It was a quiet and peaceful snowfall, and just as suddenly as it had begun, the tempest in Viktor’s mind cleared.

He hadn’t been thinking about it, but he … he had a pistol.

_A loaded pistol._

All he had to do was pull it out of his jacket without her noticing, which would be easier said than done considering how close she was. Nevertheless, he had no choice. His right arm was already close to his chest. If he could just start moving it …

As Viktor moved his hand infinitesimally, something in his expression must have shown, because when Yuuri managed to blearily focus on him, his expression flickered, eyes darting to the very hand inching slowly into his jacket.

Viktor could see it in his eyes when he understood. Yuuri gave him one last lingering look before focusing on Kitagawa.

“Please, let him go,” he rasped faintly.

As Kitagawa tensed, Viktor wanted to cry and praise Yuuri for his ingenuity, his perceptiveness. There was no way he was going to pull this off without a distraction.

“I’ll do anything, say anything you want I –” Yuuri coughed, struggling to catch his breath.

His hand was on the pistol now. He fingered its cold barrel, heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

Kitagawa breathed harshly in his ear. The knife trembled where it pressed into his neck.

“He’s trying to take you away from me, Hoshito,” she seethed. “How do you not see it?”

Viktor shivered, fingering the trigger of the pistol. He didn’t know if he could take a life – he had never wanted to know, but this was _Yuuri_.

Viktor would always, always choose Yuuri, no matter the situation. It would be just like pulling off a band aid, or killing one of the countless people on one of Yuri’s video games, he told himself. It would be quick.

 _Just pull the trigger_ , his mind whispered.

“No,” Yuuri whispered, voice growing weaker by the second, “Everything is so twisted in you that you fail to _see_.”

Kitagawa snarled. Her pants were heavy, erratic.

_Pull the trigger!_

“And what may that be?”

Yuuri smiled sadly, and if Viktor wasn’t so keyed up, he’d seriously wonder how Yuuri managed to have any sympathy for this woman after all she had done.

“Hoshito is dead,” he rasped, speech slowing with each word. “And … and I’m just a  f-faulty replacement for him. No … no wonder you hated me and the others so much. No one can truly replace him, can they?”

As Yuuri tapered off, his eyes drifted closed and the hands covering his wound grew slack.

_Yuuri’s time was running out! Do it! Do it now!_

Kitagawa screamed, removing the knife from Viktor’s neck as she prepared to throw it at Yuuri, when suddenly, a loud bang echoed in the air, and her screamed choked off abruptly.

The knife clattered to the ground, midway between Yuuri and Viktor, followed by a soft thud.

Viktor shook violently where he stood, pistol aloft.

What … what had just –

“Viktor! Get away from her, now!”

Viktor jumped violently, turning his head in the direction of the voice. Standing just meters away was Alexei, pistol held high.

Viktor sobbed in relief, wasting no time as he rushed over to Yuuri. He gathered him in his arms, resting Yuuri’s head in his lap, and cried, calling his name.

There was so much blood, and Yuuri was fading in and out of consciousness.

He caressed the side of his face delicately, running his fingers through his hair as he crooned nonsense words in his native Russian.

_There was so much blood._

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” he crooned, over and over. He traced his thumb over his cracked lips, his dry skin. Viktor’s eyes watered again.

Just what had he gone through to get him in this state?

Yuuri’s eyelids fluttered briefly, a low moan escaping his mouth. He met Viktor’s watery gaze groggily.

“Viktor,” he whispered, hand twitching on his stomach. Viktor clasped it quickly, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “Viktor … are you really here?”

“Yes, love. I’m here, I’m here,” he soothed, “Everything will be ok, my Yuuri. Just – just try and stay awake,” he said, voice wavering. “I’ll stay close to you the entire time, just please, stay with me.”

His voice cracked on the end, but Yuuri seemed comforted, because after Viktor spoke he sighed in relief.

“Don’t ever let go, Vitya,” he mumbled, and Viktor nodded desperately, continuing even after Yuuri’s eyes closed once more, after his hand grew slack in his grasp.

So caught up was he that he hardly noticed the arrival of the paramedics as they swarmed Yuuri, pulling out all sorts of medical devices. They forced Viktor away from him and someone clasped his arm, pulling him away from the scene despite his loud protests.

He had to keep his promise! He couldn’t let Yuuri out of his sight again, not after all that had happened.

He cried weakly as he was ushered into the ambulance, a small army of medical personnel swarming him and his minimal injuries. Hand fluttered all around him, questions were asked a mile a minute.

Red and blue lights flashed all around, reflecting off the ice and the snow in a dizzying array.

Viktor held up a hand, shielding his eyes from their pervasive light.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” a voice murmured, “let’s attach him up to a transfusion. The other ambulance should have enough for … ”

Viktor frowned. What were they talking about? He looked down at his chest and blinked rapidly, his vision blurring.

His whole front was red.  

Oh …

Maybe the knife had pressed against him a bit harder than he thought.

As the lights flashed and the sounds faded, the last thought Viktor had was of Yuuri and his smiling face until everything went dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a clean shot through the leg, Alexei noted numbly, as Kitagawa collapsed after firing the pistol.

He had been sneaking up on them slowly. The darkness of the evening and the falling snow helped cover him greatly, but what really allowed him to gain ground was Kitagawa herself.

Whatever they were discussing was clearly distracting her. Her focus was solely on Yuuri, agitation growing by the second, and as she poised to throw the knife, Alexei reacted on instinct, firing a bullet straight through her leg.

She crumpled, and Viktor stood still in shock.

“Viktor! Get away from her, now!” Alexei screamed. Just because she was shot through the leg didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of inflicting harm.

As Viktor scrambled away, Alexei smothered his frustrations with the man – _hadn’t he explicitly told him on multiple occasions to stay with the group?_ – and focused his attention on her.

He approached her cautiously. The few centimeters of snow that had gathered on the ice crunched under his boots with each step. When he stood just a meter from her, he spoke.

“Ko Kitagawa, you’re under arrest under multiple charges of kidnapping and first-degree murder.”

Slowly, as if in a daze, Kitagawa turned over onto her side, cheek pressed against the ice. Her face was blank despite the pain that had to be racing up her leg.

Alexei tensed, awaiting her response, but when nothing more came other than her blank expression, he continued.

“We have a plethora of evidence to apprehend you, but despite this, you will be offered a lawyer to appeal your case.”

He eyed her intensely. She remained eerily quiet. Alexie’s eye twitched as his hands tensed around the pistol he aimed at her.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for what you’ve done?” Alexei shifted forward, lips trembling. “Anything at all?”

He flinched when she suddenly started shouting, eyes bugging out of her head.

“Hoshito …. Get Away! … that filth … you promised me – “

Everything she was shouting was disjoined, garbled. Alexei could only make out a few words. She was fixated on a point just to his left. Pistol aloft, he spared a quick glance over his shoulder.

Yuuri was stretched out on the ice, receiving attention from multiple paramedics. Viktor was nowhere in sight, likely forced away, but it was obvious what she was lamenting.

With the medical attention, there was no guarantee that Yuuri would die now. Killing her victims was her ultimate goal, and to have one escape?

It had to eat away at her.

When Alexei turned back, her face was still transfixed, her speech nonsensical.

The arm holding the pistol began trembling. Lightening quick, rage flashed through him. What right did she have to take people’s life away? To destroy families? To cause such lifelong grief? Volya’s smiling face, flushed and alight from a day spent skating with him, flashed in his mind.

Volya, who was only just seventeen, who had a lifetime ahead of him. Volya, his dear brother, who he never really appreciated until it was too late.

Volya.

_Who was now gone._

Alexei panted as the rage mixed with grief. He took a step closer.

“Where’s … where’s Volya Kozar?” he demanded, voice quivering, “What have you done to him?”

The snow fell harder now, glinting and swirling in the moonlight. Alexei’s fingers twitched around the trigger of the pistol.

Kitagawa spared him no response, though, for she simply stared blankly ahead. Blood from her leg painted the ice beneath her.

His pistol hovered over her uninjured leg, momentarily mesmerized. Torture to encourage responses was something that Alexei had always been morally against. But now, pistol poised to fire and tears beading at the corners of his eyes, he could see the appeal.

It would be so easy …

A hand clasped his shoulder.

“Alexei! What are you doing?”

Alexei flinched and looked to his right. There stood Nina, face incredulous and eyes searching. A few other detectives surrounded her, several rushing over to Kitagawa to restrain her so she could receive medical attention.

Nina took in his face, likely taking note of his tear stained cheeks and flushed face. The hand on his shoulder squeezed tightly for a moment before releasing. Her eyes were sympathetic when he looked at her, but after a brief moment, she shook her head, lips settling into a grim line.

“I need to go back to the house and gather more clues,” she said, clenching the bridge of her nose, “Just – just get away from here, ok Alexei? The other detectives can handle her now. And besides, Pestov needs to debrief you.”

Alexei’s gaze lingered on Kitagawa. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and several people were dressing her wounds as they attempted to communicate over her endless babbling.

_She didn’t deserve it._

Still, because it was his duty, because he had no choice in the matter, he walked on, turning his back on her crumpled form.

He made his way to the street, his own field agents swarming him for questions that he answered blankly, routinely. He didn’t even know if his replies made sense half of the time, because some of them responded with frowns and pursed lips.

Alexei didn’t care.

He had spent the last seven years of his life on this case, and now that Kitagawa was captured … well, it didn’t feel like justice for one.

Because the simple fact remained that Volya was never coming back, and now that his reason for living was gone, he felt just as detached as the snow breezing through the air, as desolate as the icy expanse of the lake.

They had finally captured her. It should have been a happy occasion.

But still, Alexei grieved.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! But here it is, finally! I hope all this angst was worth the wait?
> 
> Regardless, thank you so much to everyone who has been supporting me on this journey. Every comment and kudo that I receive blows me away. The fact that you all enjoy the little story I came up with last summer on a plane before I had even watched Yuri on ice amazes me. And look where we are now! 
> 
> I will be posting a meta analysis after next chapter. You'll be able to find it on my [tumblr](https://katyaton.tumblr.com/). Don't be afraid to come say hi!
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support <3


	14. Days Gone Bye

“After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.” **  
― Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha  **

**Chapter 14: Days Gone Bye**

Time had no meaning here, in the vast oblivion he floated through. He had no idea where he was, who he was, or even when he was.

But he wasn’t afraid.

It was nice, peaceful even.

Other than the frequent pressure across his hand and the occasional murmur in his ear, there was nothing here to distract him.

No demands. No expectations.

_He could simply be._

Why would he ever want to leave?

Time passed.

…

…

…

Quiet murmurs echoed all around him – whispered words, muffled and distorted as they reached his ears.

Something stroked across his cheek.

A light pressure pressed against his lips.

He sighed; it felt nice.

A presence near him shifted.

“ – it Yuuri. Can you hear me?” they whispered.

The caresses across his forehead stilled, but the warmth from their hand remained.

Yuuri shifted restlessly. _He knew that voice._

Even though he could barely distinguish up from down, left from right, it was grounding, familiar.

He needed to wake up.

Something soft and warm pressed against the back of his palm. His fingers twitched in response.

“Yuuri,” The voice lilted, “I – I’m here. Please … I need you to –”

The darkness increased; it was becoming harder and harder to hear.

The pressure on his hand lessened as he sank back down.

And so, cocooned in endless, he floated for an immeasurable amount of time.

…

…

…

Until -

Until there was light; light and muffled sounds.

He flinched as a stark whiteness pierced his eyes, bringing a hand up to shield himself from the glare.

In time, the brightness receded, and like a dimmer gradually illuminating a room, his vision returned.

The first thing he noticed, other than the pallor of the room, was the plush of the bed, and then, the dull pain throughout his body.

He had a few seconds of confusion.

A soft beeping to his left sounded. The clock mounted on the wall ticked.

And then it all came flooding back.

The lake.

The knife.

And the blood. _There was so much blood_.

His breathing picked up, and with it, the faint beeping noise.

Where … where was he? What had happened?

But more importantly, where was _she_?

Yuuri wrestled against the covers and sat up abruptly, only to wince and groan as a sharp pain in his abdomen warred against the movement.

Grimacing, he settled down into the covers, but that didn’t stop the pounding of his heart nor the fear that gnawed like shattered ice lodged deep in his belly.

A small part of him knew that, logically, the simple fact that he was here meant that he had to be safe, that she had been caught.

And yet -

The much more persistent side of him screamed that he wasn’t safe, that she would come out of the door at any moment, and if he didn’t do something, if he didn’t leave –

He curled in on himself, whimpering, when the glint of something to his right caught his eye.

He froze.

There was a man curled up in an armchair just a meter from his bed. The man’s eyes were closed, but it was clearly a fitful sleep, if his pinched brow was anything to go by. His shimmery, silver hair spilled across his cheekbones, almost as if the man had deliberately planned the hair to fall that way, but Yuuri knew better; this man was just effortlessly gorgeous.

And there, on the man’s hand, was a golden band glinting softly under the harsh florescent lighting.

His heart lurched at the sight as memories and emotions flooded his brain.

Suddenly, as if he could feel his stare, the man’s expression contorted as he released a soft groan, eyelashes fluttering. Shockingly blue eyes met his gaze, and Yuuri could do nothing but stare back, suspended.

This man …

“Yuuri,” he whispered, barely inaudible.

Yuuri bit his lip, not even able to breath as the man sat up slowly, making his way over to Yuuri as if he were a wounded animal.

When Yuuri continued to stare without saying a word, the man faltered, lowering his outstretched hand as he worried his bottom lip.

The sight of this man –

No, _of Viktor_ , he berated himself. The fact that he had temporarily forgotten his best friend was chilling, but he shoved it to the back of his mind to be regarded at a later time; this was a much more pressing matter.

The sight of Viktor in distress was what finally shocked Yuuri out of his stupor. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, and before he could even try to stop it, they overflowed like rivets down his cheeks.

“V-Vicchan,” he blubbered, holding out his arms shakily.

It didn’t take long for Viktor to react. He closed the remaining distance in quick strides and enveloped Yuuri in his arms. Like the first, sweet breath after being underwater for far too long, Viktor’s presence brought him sharply back to reality.

He shuddered into the hug, quickly eliminating any remaining space between the two until nothing but the thin hospital gown and Viktor’s threadbare sweater separated them.

Yuuri wasn’t the only one overcome. Viktor was shaking like a leaf, hands stocking all over Yuuri’s body as if he was attempting to refamiliarize himself with every little detail.

“Yuuri,” he sobbed, tears soaking into the thin material of Yuuri’s hospital gown. “Yuuri, oh Yuuri. I can’t believe – I didn’t think I’d – “

Yuuri stroked the back of Viktor’s head. It was strange, but Viktor’s reaction seemed to ground him. Suddenly, he found himself comforting Viktor while his panic from just a minute ago seemed long buried.

“Shhh, I’m ok Viktor,” he soothed. He pulled back from the embrace to stare into Viktor’s swollen, panicked eyes.  These past few months had clearly not been easy on him. Yuuri noted deep, dark shadows under his eyes that spoke of endless nights of restlessness. Viktor’s hair was limp, not styled in it’s usual effortless grace, and his skin was blotchy and dry in patches.

Yuuri knew how much he usually spent on his appearance on non-skating mornings. His skin care regiment took at least thirty minutes on good days. From what Yuuri could tell, he probably hadn’t given it any thought since their separation.

Yuuri scanned the rest of his body. He looked no worse for wear other than the thick bandages that lay across his neck.

He brought up a hand and lightly caressed the wrappings. Viktor stilled. Yuuri could feel his intent gaze upon him, but he didn’t have the courage to look up in this moment.

He remembered the chaos of that night quite clearly, and the events that lead up to this cut were replaying in his mind over and over. Throughout his entire stay with her, seeing Viktor with a knife to his throat was by far the most terrifying.

He shivered.

_Mother had done this._

No! The kidnapper! The kidnapper had done this.

His fingers traced down Viktor’s bandage and lightly caressed his collarbone.

No. Even that wasn’t quite right, if he was being truly honest with himself.

If he had just landed that jump and not hit his head, none of this would have happened; The kidnapper was the catalyst, that he could acknowledge, but he couldn’t squash the feeling that he could have done any number of things to avoid this, like being a better skater, his mind whispered insidiously.

Besides, the kidnapper clearly had a plethora of mental problems, and a part of Yuuri couldn’t truly get mad at what she had done to him; he sympathized with it far too much. After all, she had done her best to keep him safe, despite her delusions. A part of her had to have cared for him.

Yes, it was clear to him; Yuuri had no one to blame but himself.

It was the cruelest irony that his life’s passion had wronged him so thoroughly. And now, after everything, Yuuri still wasn’t sure how much of himself was left; Yuuri was terrified at the thought, but how much of his true self was left? Just how much had the kidnapper changed him?

And the most important question: Why would Viktor even want to stay with him, once he really saw all those changes for himself?

Why would anyone?

Viktor’s grip on his shoulders tightened.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Yuuri could almost laugh at the question if he wasn’t so buried in his realizations.

Everything.

Everything was wrong.

And it was only a matter of time before Viktor realized it too.

“Everything is fine, Vitya,” Yuuri promised quietly, forcing a smile.

The fear in Viktor’s eyes didn’t lessen, but Yuuri couldn’t fault him.

The lie sounded fake even to his own ears.

 

* * *

  

Tamaki Taro was one of those old school detectives, Mari thought. With his crisply pressed suit, no nonsense expression, and meticulous notetaking, the man had a direct air about him that spoke of years of experience.

Mari eyed him over her genmaicha as he crossed the dining room in quick, purposeful strides. Kanbayashi Isao trailed behind him like a shadow; his understated, quiet demeanor lending him an effective cover to Tamaki’s rather formidable presence.

Mari’s eyes narrowed.

From the moment she’d met him, Isao had never sat right with her. If Tamaki was of the old school of thought, Isao inhabited the dark underbelly; Mari had nothing to go off of other than a few interactions with the man, but he was one of those slippery types, of that she was sure. If he hadn’t offered to give names of those involved in the entire coverup, he would have been just as culpable.

It irked her beyond belief that his little deal would get him off scot-free, or at least close to it.

Isao and Tamaki made their way to Mari’s table and settled into the chairs across from her. Isao met her stare head on, dark eyes gleaming in the muted light, but Mari simply stared back, unimpressed.

Tamaki shuffled with papers in his briefcase for a moment, and then placed a packet in front of both of them.

“Let’s get started, then.”

The onsen was closed up for the night, but Mari had agreed to a quick meeting before Tamaki returned back to Tokyo. Tamaki apparently had information he needed to tell them for the upcoming trial now that Yuuri was safe and accounted for.

Her parents had booked flights to St. Petersburg just hours after the news had reached them. Mari’s relief was a palpable thing, and her desire to see her little brother was nearly overwhelming now that she knew Yuuri was safe, but she had seen how much it had affected her parents; they had been practically falling apart these past few months. She had offered to watch over the onsen while they were away, promising to book the next flight to St. Petersburg the moment they returned.

The fact that their neighbors had offered to help out with the onsen in the meantime made it manageable, and besides, Mari had practically been running it herself these past few months anyway.

Tamaki removed two ink pens from the inside of a leather portfolio and uncapped them with his usual efficiency. He placed one of each on top of their packets. 

“Now, because Kitagawa Ko remains a citizen of Japan regardless of her current location, the state has claimed universal jurisdiction over her case, which means the majority of the investigation and trial lies in my agency’s court now.”

Mari already knew this. One of the Russian detectives - Barkova, if Mari remembered correctly -  contacted her family with the news that Yuuri had been found. After their initial excitement and relief had calmed down enough for Barkova to continue, she said they’d have minimal contact with the Russian firm for the deration of the case as the investigative rights were now under Japan’s jurisdiction.

“I have a few documents that I’ll need you both to sign in the event you appear in court to testify, as well as nondisclosure agreements. It’s all standard protocol,” he said.

Mari flipped through the packet briefly, eyes swimming with gobs of legal jargon. She wasted little time trying to figure it out, though, signing her name at the bottom of each form and shoving the packet across the table.

She’d had more than enough these past months of lawyers and state workers and all the paperwork that came with them.

Tamaki startled a little and raised an eyebrow at Mari, but made no effort to comment further on her lack of thoroughness as he secured them in his portfolio. Isao, however, was a different story. Mari nearly snorted when she realized he hadn’t even finished going over the first page, but managed to smother the sound by taking a quick gulp of tea. Along with Tamaki’s own pen, Isao had an assortment of colored pens at his command. As she watched him go at it, her mirth and disbelief continued to grow; the man was underlining and making notes like a madman.

Tamaki showed no signs of distress as the minutes crawled by with nothing more than the scratch of Isao’s pens marking the time, but the man was a force of nature, so that went without saying. Mari, however, didn’t have the countenance of a brick wall, and there was a limit to how long she could put up with this crap, especially when she hadn’t had a smoke since morning.

Mind made up, Mari rose from the desk and fished for a cigarette from her breast pocket.

“I’ll be just outside,” she drawled, making no effort to hide her displeasure at the matter.

Opening the side door was an instant relief. The night was a clear one – stars dusted the skyline while the faintest glow of the dying sunset crested the horizon.

The lighter blazed briefly, puffing out a shot of heat in the otherwise cold night as she lit her cigarette. Mari took a deep drag and held her breath, letting the smoke linger in her lungs as long as possible. That first drag was always the most pleasurable, and she was loath to let it pass. When her lungs began to burn, she exhaled slowly, and the white smoke curled in the air around her, billowing momentarily before the breeze swept it away.

As the smoke cleared, the inky curtain of the night sky emerged once more. Mari gazed at the twinkling lights.

It was fascinating, how light millions of years old journeyed such a vast distance to reach her on this one night.

She hoped that Yuuri would get a chance to appreciate their light at some point, despite the recovery that lay in wait for him. She couldn’t even begin to fathom the horrors he had gone through, isolated and alone for nearly two months with no one but that woman for company.

But if anyone could overcome a trial so large, she knew Yuuri could.

He had the ridiculous notion that he was weak, which was ridiculous, because everyone with half a brain could see that quite the opposite was true; it wasn’t something he’d ever mentioned to Mari herself, but she could read her brother well enough to know what was bouncing around in that head of his.

She had never told him this, and sincerely regretted it in hind sight, but he was one of the strongest people she knew. This new obstacle would just be a bit longer, a bit more complex, but she knew he’d overcome it like he’d done everything else in the past.  

She exhaled one last drag of her cigarette slowly, and, as it swirled and dissipated into the night sky, she eyed the pinpricks of light that traversed such an endless, impossible journey.

Yuuri would be fine; she was sure of it.

 

* * *

  

Viktor barely acknowledged the nurses as they bustled around Yuuri; for the past few hours, his attention had been affixed to only one person.

It was surreal, in a sense, to be reunited with Yuuri once more. Viktor had to keep convincing himself that it was true, that the figure laying in the bed wasn’t a figment of his imagination, that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him like it had in his dreams.

Viktor’s lip trembled. He clutched Yuuri’s hand just a tad tighter.

And remarkably, his hand was squeezed in return, once again shattering the whispered lies his mind taunted him with.

Viktor buzzed with pent up energy. He wanted nothing more than to launch himself at Yuuri and wrap him in a full-bodied hug, cocooning him away from the troubles of the world. But he had to restrain himself in this moment, as the nurses checked Yuuri’s vitals and explained the injuries to his body. Yuuri was looking at the nurse as he talked, but Viktor could at least take solace in Yuuri’s hand in his own.

“You understand?” the nurse asked, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was obvious that most of the staff here weren’t fluent in English, but they were trying their best for Yuuri’s sake. A lot of hand gestures and halting phrases had been the gist of their communications up until this point. Viktor had assured them that he would relay the information if necessary, though.

“Mr. Katsuki?” the nurse prompted when he received no answer.

Silence, as well as the faint ticking of the clock, was the only response.

A little worried now, Viktor leaned in, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

“Did you hear that?” he soothed, trying to hide the concern in his voice. Yuuri continued to not respond. Truly concerned now, he raised his voice a notch.

“Yuuri, dear -”

Yuuri flinched sharply, cutting off the rest of what he was going to say. Viktor started, removing his hand. Yuuri’s head moved around the room wildly, as if he was unfamiliar with his surroundings. The beeping of the heart monitor went wild in the small room, a loud beat in the otherwise quiet room.

No one spoke for a moment as the beeping slowly lowered. Yuuri breathed heavily, arms curled in on himself protectively. He stared across the room at the mounted clock, refusing to meet Viktor or the nurse’s eyes.

Viktor was at a complete loss. He had seen Yuuri in the throes of an anxiety attack many times, but usually he could pin point the cause and try his best to help him through it.

This looked just like an anxiety attack. But what was the trigger?

The nurse made a quick note on his clipboard, lips pursed and frown even more pronounced.

He addressed Viktor in Russian.

“I’ll be back shortly, Mr. Nikiforov. I need to confer with the doctors about a few things. Please relay the information I just explained to Yuuri, and don’t hesitate to ring for us if either of you need anything.”

With that, he filed out, head bowed as he continued to make notes.

A tense silence blanketed the room. Viktor found himself at a loss for words, which was a first when it came to Yuuri. He thought he had gotten to the point where he could pick apart his thoughts at a moment’s glance. Yuuri got into moods that needed a little intervention on his part at times, but this oppressive silence was clearly not one of them; it was a wild new side that Viktor had never seen.

Surprisingly, it was Yuuri who broke the silence first.

“Viktor,” he said quietly, gaze affixed to the clock again.

An icy chill settled over him, despite Yuuri’s apparent calm.

“Yuuri.” He clenched his shaking hands into fists against his thighs. “Yuuri, what is it?”

Yuuri was quiet for so long that Viktor began to fear he had disengaged again. His hand raised up to clasp Yuuri’s once more, but before he even got it off the arm rest of the chair he aborted the action. His heart sank. Would Yuuri even want to physical touch from him after such a violent reaction?

When Yuuri finally turned to look at Viktor, his eyes were blank, but the way his hands gripped the sheets in a white knuckled grip spoke of his true emotions.

“Please don’t say that word again.”

He cocked his head in confusion. “I don’t …, “he trailed off weakly, racking his mind through the recent conversation. “Which word?”

Yuuri was silent as Viktor floundered.

He sighed shakily. “I won’t know what it is unless you tell me, dear -”

Yuuri flinched abruptly. The heart monitor went wild again.

Viktor raised his eyebrows in shock.

“It’s – it’s that word isn’t it?”

Yuuri, still debilitated with fear, nodded stiffly.

He didn’t understand why, but it was as clear as day that ‘dear’ was now completely off limits.  It obviously had something to do with Kitagawa, the specifics of which remained unclear. It was apparent, though, that Viktor had to avoid it now for Yuuri’s sake.

“Ok, ok, Yuuri,” he soothed, “It’s ok. I promise you won’t hear that word again.” He inched closer and nervously took his hand. To Viktor’s immense relief, Yuuri allowed it and even squeezed back. Watery eyes met his own, and thankfully the earlier hollowness was gone. Yuuri even managed a small smile for him, even though Viktor knew that was completely counter to his current mood.

“Thank you, Viktor,” he breathed.

Emboldened, Viktor perched on the end of his bed and gathered him into a slow hug. As Yuuri leaned against him, burying his head against Viktor’s shoulder, part of him rejoiced at having him so close once more, but a larger, much more insistent part withered and festered relentlessly.

There was only one thing he could think of in this moment, just one accursed, damning thought.

Like a broken record player, Kitagawa’s parting words echoed sharply in his brain.

 

“You’ll never truly have him back.”

 

* * *

  

Mari’s smoke break couldn’t have been timed better. As she approached Tamaki and Isao, it was clear that they were wrapping things up.

Isao stood up and began fastening the button on his jacket methodically. As Mari approached, he gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Mari sneered back.

“Well,” began Tamaki brusquely, “that will be all I need of you two for now. I’m heading back to Tokyo to iron things out with my department and to continue the investigation. I’ll be in contact with you both.”

He snapped the metal locks of his brief case. With the tense the atmosphere, it reverberated in the dining room like a gun shot.

“I better be getting back too,” Isao said in that annoyingly quiet voice of his. “I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience to Mari here. She’s been such a gracious host to me these past few days, after all.”

Isao regarded her over his thick spectacles, magnified eyes dancing with what Mari knew was mirth. Isao’s stay at the inn expired just a few days ago, conveniently right before Yuuri was found. He hadn’t decided to stay any longer since he lived just an hour’s drive away, which Mari was beyond grateful for. He had only agreed to come back to the inn to meet Tamaki before he returned to Tokyo.

Now that he was back, she had nearly forgotten how oppressive his presence was; anytime he was in a room he brought a shroud of tension with him.

She just caught herself from shivering as he studied her with that damning half smile, which was likely a fruitless endeavor on her part; he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Mari shoved her hands into the pockets of her inn robe to mask her shaking hands. She cleared her throat.

“Well, don’t let me keep you then,” she said, inclining her head to the direction of the door. Both men took the cue and walked away, but when they reached the door, a sharp buzzing noise on the table made her jump.

There was a phone on the table – Isao’s phone, given the spot where it laid. It was lit up by a notification. Mari picked it up, frowning.

A red exclamation mark flashed across the phone with a banner that read “Home Alarm Activation.”

Before she could take a closer look, the phone was snatched out of her grasp. She startled and glanced up, meeting Isao’s frantic eyes, his once careful façade shattered like glass.

“Sorry about that.  Nearly forgot my phone there,” he laughed, slightly manic. Mari lurched back a step.

Isao’s eyes darted across her face. At the exit, Tamaki stood still.

“No need to mind this,” he smiled shakily, silencing the notification. “It was probably just the raccoons that set off my security system again. No need to worry.”

It was painfully obvious that he was trying to pull himself together, but why had the home alarm elicited such a reaction?

“I’ll be on my way now,” he finished, nodding slightly to them both.

He glided across the room and opened the door, disappearing like a whisper in the night. Tamaki watched him leave, shuttered expression giving nothing away.

The door closed with a soft thud. A few seconds passed before Tamaki nodded in her direction once more.

“I’ll see you soon, Katsuki-san.”

Mari knew from the start that Isao wasn’t all that he seemed, but that little stunt had just put the nail in the coffin. It was just a hunch, but something told her he was hiding something related to the case, something important. Why else would he break character so easily?  

She breathed heavily as she raced to the office where they kept the keys to the family car. They didn’t use it often, but it did come in handy on occasion.

Like now.

She hesitated momentarily before leaving the office, and then, on second thought, turned around and picked up a bat, brushing off the dust.

Her heart bounded in her chest as she raced down the hall to the garage. A near hysteric thought came to her as she fumbled with the keys and revved the engine.

It seemed like she was going to be like one of those crime show detectives after all.

 

* * *

 

Alexei jolted awake as the door to his office banged open. Nina strode in with no regard, plopping herself in the chair across his desk with her usual bluster.

Alexei blinked blearily, too exhausted to give her the proper scolding she deserved. Nina wasn’t spending anytime on pleasantries, though. She rifled through her bag and unearthed a few leaves of paper stored in a manila envelope.

Alexei lifted his head from the desk, feeling a latent spark of interest despite the dreariness that had been plaguing him the last few hours. It had been a late night after they found Yuuri and apprehended Kitagawa. Not only did they have to scour the area for any trace evidence (the forensics department had beaten in to him the importance of crime scene retrieval more times than he could count) but they still had the drive home and, of course, the heaping piles of paperwork that lay in wait.

And after that night, after confronting the one person who had the last tenuous connection to his lost brother and finally seeing the magnitude of the situation … well, he thought he could afford to be a little morose.

Besides, Nina had assured him that she and Pestov would tackle the standard procedures that needed to be addressed within the first twenty-four hours of a crime scene. She had basically shoved him out of the office as she ordered him to go home and get sleep, which was a good idea in hind sight, but as soon as he was left alone in the parking lot, he found himself full of restless energy.

He had to do something, anything besides being left alone with his own thoughts.

Hence the night spent in the office.  

Nina parted her mouth, but when she met his eyes, she huffed.

“I can’t talk to you like this,” she muttered, leaning across the desk. Alexei reared back a little, but Nina was quick, and before he knew it she snatched a piece of paper that had stuck to his cheek.

Huh.

He reached up a hand and stroked his cheek. He hadn’t even realized it was there. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of filling out the case report and the other mountains of forms that lay in wait. It was all just endless red tape, which was what Alexei hated most about this job - ninety five percent paperwork and five percent action, if you were lucky.

Alexei yawned, scrunching up his face in an attempt to clear the fatigue.

 _He needed his coffee thermos, stat_.

“You didn’t go home, did you?” Nina said sharply, frowning.

“Well you didn’t either,” he mumbled, a little exasperated.

“That’s not the same. I haven’t been doping myself up on caffeine every night for the last week. I can afford an all-nighter,” she said, eyeing him critically, “You clearly can’t.”

He grumbled under his breath. Only Nina had the power reduce his dignity and station to that of a squabbling five-year old.

“That’s besides the point. I take it there was a reason for you coming here besides disrupting the very important casefile I’m compiling?”

Her eyes flickered down to his desk where the forms lay, very much so unfinished. Her lips twitched, but whatever she had must have been important, because she clearly restrained herself from another barb.

When she met his eyes again, all traces of amusement were gone.

“Back at the house,” she began, voice firm, “there was something I found that was rather curious. I didn’t have time to really analyze it, and because forensics is using it for trace and biological analysis, we can’t look at it right now.”

Alexei scrunched his nose. He’d never understand the biological side of detective work, the Hollywood department, as he called them; treating microscopic evidence with the finest care lest the sample become contaminated; whitecoats hunching over microscopes and transferring minute samples from tube to tube. It was much too abstract for him; he preferred the realism and grit of detective work.

And they always insisted on taking their sweet time analyzing the evidence. Alexei knew it was necessary, but sometimes it truly seemed like they were taking as long as they could just to annoy him.

“I managed to visit the lab just a few hours prior, though, and they let me come in and take photographs of the workbook in Kitagawa’s house,” she continued, holding out a few leaves of paper.

Alexei shot out of his desk, wide awake.

They were photos of book pages - likely from the book Nina had been so shifty about back at Kitagawa’s house. He had no time to look it over, and had completely forgotten about it in all the chaos that followed. He had nearly snatched it out of her hands back at the house before he was called away by Zurov.

He clasped the papers and laid them out on his desk: six in total. There was a mixture of both Russian and Japanese, but the hand-written font was all in what looked like halting Japanese kanji - so, clearly a Russian to Japanese work book, of some sort.

Alexei’s stomach lurched as he noticed a dark brown splotch in one corner of the photograph. They wouldn’t get the forensics report for a few days yet, but he knew instinctively that it had to be blood.

He swallowed. He really didn’t want to acknowledge the suspicion about which boy had written in this book.

He continued to scan the papers, frowning.

“Nina, what was it – ”

But then he saw it. There were tiny little asterisks by a few of the Russian words. He chalked the first one up as a mistake, but they weren’t lumped together by any means, dispersed out almost evenly between the six pages.

“You see it right?”

Alexei’s eyes widened.

Yes. He saw it clearly.

“It’s a message.”

By Nina’s grim smile, he knew she thought the same.

“And not only that. These six pages are in succession in the workbook, but the first one of the series was marked by a dog-eared page. No other page in the workbook was marked that way.”

Alexei’s breath caught in his throat.

There was no denying it, then; this was Volya’s workbook. He almost always had his nose stuck in some dusty tome every time Alexei saw him. Other than ice skating in his later years, Alexei had to work hard to convince him to come outside and play. Volya was quite passionate about his books – as passionate as Alexei had been about ice hockey – and one thing he never, ever did was bookmark a page by dog-earing it; it was akin to sacrilege, in his mind, which he never failed to remind Alexei of if he ever saw him do it to his own books.

Heart fluttering madly, he snatched a notepad from his desk and began furiously writing down each Russian word that contained an asterisk.

“Volya always was the smart one,” he laughed hysterically as he recorded each word. “There’s no way this isn’t his doing.”

It was absurd, almost unbelievable that he was getting this message from his brother beyond the grave, but at the same time completely believable; a hidden message like this was right up Volya’s alley.

Nina leaned over the desk as she vibrated with energy. He had no doubt that she had already decoded this before arriving and had wanted to see if Alexei could cross confirm what she found. It always made your discoveries much more valid if others could replicate them.

Before he knew it, a small list of words filled his notepad. As he read, he nearly dropped it in shock, forcing himself to read it over once more. It was a jilted message, likely because Volya didn’t have a lot to work with, but the idea was clear all the same.

“There. Are. Two,” he read each word, voice shaking. “Husband. Is. Here. I am. Hurt. I will. Escape. Tonight.”

Alexei lowered the paper slowly, lost for words.

“Volya escaped,” he said weakly. Or at least tried to. They hadn’t found his body in the time since the arrest, which was both good and bad in Alexei’s book, since he was terrified to see the last remains of his brother, yet he so desperately wanted closure, but if he had survived …!

“That’s not all.” Nina clasped Alexei’s shoulder, eyes intent. “The husband’s involved, it said.”

They were practically nose to nose now. This close, he could feel the puff of her exhales as she scanned his face with laser focus.

His lips thinned.

“Isao Kanbayashi.”

She nodded.

“We need to call Tamaki,” she said, booking no room for argument, “Now.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Chapter title is a direct reference to S1, Ep1 of the television show _The Walking Dead_ *** 
> 
> Hello, hello!  
> Just as things seemed to be wrapping up, more mysteries come out of the woodwork ...  
> Gotta keep y'all on your toes, right?
> 
> And isn't this just a right cheerful thing to read this holiday season? I have to applaud myself for my rather morbid timing, haha.
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone has a great Christmas (if you celebrate it) and happy holidays!


	15. Ghostwriter

 

 “..then he added, as if requiring a response to his own remark, 'Probably the greater the difference, the greater the similarity, and the greater the similarity, the greater the difference,' at that moment he did not yet know how right he was.”   
**―** **Jos _é_ Saramago** **,** **All the Names**

**Chapter 15: Ghostwriter**

Creeping fear clouded his mind, spilling from the depths in which he kept it corralled so securely. It oozed out like a disease, a festering mass. His mind raced with thoughts – a kaleidoscope that flashed images too quickly to comprehend.

Isao was nothing if not level headed, but it had been a long time since he had felt so frightened.

He clutched the steering wheel in an iron grip.

The sunset had crested the horizon long ago, and now only the blanket of night remained, cloaking the daytime in shadows and intrigue. A lot of people liked the cover night gave, the illusion, but not Isao. For him it was harder to distinguish places and people, but and more importantly, their plans. He prided himself on his perceptiveness – it was one of his best attributes, and the blanket of night only served to dull his senses.

Isao flicked on his high beams as he turned a corner. There were no major thoroughfares between Hatsetsu and Shiiba, and as much as he wanted to gun the shoulders, he knew he needed to exercise at least a little restraint.

Besides, there were much more pressing matters at hand.

Like Volya.

From the moment he took the boy in, he knew it would be one of the largest risks he ever took in life. But the emotions – those damn emotions he typically kept so perfectly buried – managed to rear their head at the sight of the boy, injured and alone and looking oh so like Hoshito, propped up against a snow bank near the lake.

He had come prepared to deal with Ko’s newest replacement – the first one that had ever managed to live by the time Isao had paid a visit – when he discovered the boy had escaped. But this was unprecedented; He had never had to go through with the actual act of killing itself.

Isao bit lip, pressing the accelerator a little harder.

When Volya had peered at him, too weak to even talk, it was his expression that ultimately did him in. Yes, he unquestionably resembled Hoshito, which Ko was always impeccable at finding in her victims, but his expression was calculated, relentless. When Volya first gazed at Isao, he knew the boy was trying with all his might to figure a way out of his situation, even though all signs pointed towards his imminent death.

What he saw that day was a fighter, a deceiver. But above all, what he truly saw that day was himself.

It was a near miss, how close he’d come to killing the child, but then all the possibilities danced in his mind. Isao was growing rich of off the money the Shimizu’s were funneling his way, but what would happen after his death? A life was hardly worth living if one had nothing to claim as his own after departing. But a child could keep it going, expand it even.

From that day on, he knew he would make the boy _his._

It had been child’s play to convince Ko that he had finished the job. A rough hole in the ice had served as Volya’s final resting place; A blood smeared shovel, the murder weapon. A quick traipse through the woods allowed him to shove the child into his car and secure him away before leaving.

It was as simple as that.

Ko had been distraught with the news, for her deep seeded fear had finally been realized. Isao had killed her child, and this time there were no delusions to hide behind. From then on, it was much harder to get Ko to cooperate with him.

It was why she stayed in that god forsaken house even when he offered to buy her a new one in Finland. It was why she refused to take up a new last name, which she had done after each boy’s death.

And when she told him years later that she had found a new son, through one of her many snide emails, he had cursed and raved. How idiotic of her to kidnap another one after refusing to leave, he thought. How stupid to keep this act up; Isao had thought she was done with it after seven years of relative calm.

And then when the news reached the media, and he discovered it was a minor celebrity she had kidnapped, Isao grew panicked.

Going to the police was the only way to preserve his and Volya’s safety.

The detectives were all idiots anyway. He could outmaneuver them any day, with enough research and foresight.

He had wanted to laugh out loud at the implications Tamaki, Kozar, and all the other hopeless detectives implied. There was no way Ko could have done any of this on her own. Sure, she made a little bit of money selling her knives, but in all other aspects of her life? She was hopeless. The only reason Isao hadn’t cut contact was to save his own skin - to keep her out of trouble so that she, and by extension himself, wouldn’t get caught, but then she stopped following his orders.

And lo and behold, Ko had been caught, and Isao had been left to desperately pick up the shattered remains.

She was such an idiot, but that wasn’t exactly news; everyone was an idiot.

Everyone but him and Volya.

His grip on the wheel relaxed minutely. There was no way Volya would have run off, not after everything he’d done for him, everything they’d been through. It had taken a lot of planning to get him from Russia to Japan, and above all, patience. Volya did little to resist him initially, recovering from the wounds Ko had given him upon his botched escape, but once he healed he grew impertinent. Not in the traditional sense, exactly, because everything Volya tried was calculated, underhanded.

It was the little things, like relaying directions with just enough accuracy that Isao’s rudimentary Russian couldn’t detect any discrepancies, or the time he faked an illness in front of a small group of people during one of their gasoline breaks, which was a close thing, because Isao barely managed to convince them not to call an ambulance.

These attempts were all well and good, and something that Isao even admired when he looked at the situation objectively, but what Volya failed to realize was that he was in Isao’s court, and the boy was just a player.

He was the master in this game, and he refused to be usurped.

Isao wasn’t like Ko, though, which he took pride in. He didn’t beat the belligerence out of the boy. Instead, he started talking, building rapport. It was months later in China when it happened.

It was a warm day; a periodic breeze puffed in from the bay windows, stirring the curtains. A sweet hint of honeysuckle lingered in the air. If not for the blood-stained floor and overturned furniture, one could almost believe it was just another cloying summer day.

“She killed one of the others here, didn’t she?” Volya spoke, eyes not leaving the chess board.

Isao hummed, moving his bishop. This trap would require several moves to come to fruition, but that was exactly his style of playing. Letting the pieces fall where they may while others were none the wiser was the most effective strategy.

“Xue, I believe it was,” he murmured.

Volya’s expression was pinched, as if to say ‘ _you know very well who it was, don’t play dumb.’_

Isao smiled saccharinely. He pulled off his glasses and started cleaning them with his shirt even though no dust or imperfections were present. He let a full minute elapse before speaking again.

“Why do you think I let you live, Volya?”

Volya’s eyes widened minutely, and then, the faintest hint of a smile curled on his lips. He looked up from the board slowly, regarding Isao.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Isao’s smile was wooden, fixed.

“Enlighten me.”

It was a carefully crafted game they played, constantly probing the other, seeing how far they could peer before the inevitable backlash. Isao was proud to say Volya was getting better and better as the days went on.

Volya was silent as his gaze returned to the board. His hand lingered over a rook before changing course, lifting a pawn. He brought it close to his face, scrutinizing.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t say.”

His eyes flicked to Isao. The slight smile was back again.

“Can’t reveal all my cards so early in the game, right?”

Volya leaned forward, placing the piece on the board.

When Isao glanced down, his lips tightened. His maneuvering hadn’t been foolproof; it relied more so on the thoughtlessness of the opponent, in his inability to see several steps ahead. But clearly Volya had, for this move could be nothing more than deliberate.

To the ignorant, it looked a fool’s move, but to those in the know it was as clear as day. Volya had cut off his direct path with his carefully placed pawn.

“Besides,” Volya continued, “the game’s more fun that way anyway,” he said, nodding to the board, and the double entendre was not lost on Isao by any means.

Isao had laughed out loud, a keen delight sweeping through him.

He knew it had been the right decision to spare the boy that day – what better successor could he have than him? After all, the boy was nearly a spitting image of Isao at that age. With a little more coaching, the boy would be brilliant.

From then on, Volya received nothing but the best. He was forbidden to leave their home, of course, but Isao spared no expense in his teachings. From Japanese to philosophy to calculus; Volya had it all.

No one in this world was smart enough to play his game.

But that didn’t matter, because Isao would craft his own opponent himself.

Years later, Isao was proud to call him his successor, his son even. It had come to the point where he was contemplating introducing him to the public, allowing him to wander from Isao’s sanctuary for the first time in years.

And then everything with Ko and Katsuki had started, and all his hard work was suddenly in jeopardy.

He turned a corner sharply. The tires of his car protested the movement, a loud screech in the silence.

Volya was _his_ , had been his for years now. He would return home, be greeted by Volya nursing a hot cup of tea and reading his latest book, and everything would be fine. He’d lay his fears to rest, think up his next step with Tamaki, who was likely suspicious at this point, and scan the internet for any more news regarding the case.

This was just a minor setback, nothing more, and Isao would simply have to arrange his pieces to circumnavigate this little bump in the road.

He pushed up his glasses, which had drifted down the bridge of his nose.

Yes, Volya was a risk, but a calculated one, and Isao would be damned if he let his best asset slip away at nothing more than pawns on a chess board.

 

* * *

 

Thick, padded gauze separated Yuuri from the fate of the rest of his life. A nurse puttered nearby, scribbling away on a file, but Yuuri could hardly hear her. Even the familiar bulk of Viktor faded into obscurity.

He had undergone intensive surgery on his ankle while he was unconscious, Viktor had said. He sustained a multi part fracture to the bone, and it required several metal pins to put it back right. The doctor had said he was lucky – it was his only real, sustained injury from his time, but to Yuuri the news couldn’t be more devastating.

Why did it have to be his ankle?

He would have traded almost any other injury but an injury to his very livelihood, his soul. While he was at the kidnapper’s home, he hadn’t given the injury much thought beyond the pain, but now with nothing to distract him, it was devastatingly clear what an injury of this magnitude could mean.

Better skaters than him had been forced to retire early for much lesser injuries. What if he’d never be able to skate again?

The nurse smiled warmly and began unwrapping the gauze on his ankle. Viktor had told him that they were simply changing it to prevent infection, and that a lot of discoloration and swelling was typical, especially post operation.

Yuuri figured it wouldn’t be pretty, at least not initially after such an invasive surgery, but what really worried him was the x-ray they showed him pre-operation. The break wasn’t a clean one, unfortunately, and seeing white shards of scrambled bone highlighted so neatly against the dark backdrop had nearly made him wretch.

Yuuri’s stomach churned as the nurse revealed more and more of his foot.

This would be the first insight to the rest of his life. Viktor clasped his shoulder and leaned in for a hug, but it did little to soothe Yuuri.

The final wrappings fell, and Yuuri could do nothing but stare in confusion, because the foot at the end of the bed was entirely unrecognizable. It was swollen and purple; a harsh line of stiches ran up from the bottom to the top of the ankle. Beads of blood dotted the edges of the stitches; the last layer of gauze was blotchy and discolored.

Yuuri stared at his mottled ankle, transfixed. Forget skating, would he ever even be able to walk again?

Someone was calling his name. A hand brushed his cheek.

“Yuuri, did you catch that?”

He jumped, forcefully removed from his panicking thoughts. Viktor started at him, concerned.

“Wh-what?”

Viktor’s eyes were searching, his lips tight, and oh, Yuuri knew that expression – it was one he had become despairingly familiar with in just the brief time he’d been here. It was the quiet yet concerned look, and seeing it repeated on every face he encountered, day in and day out, was driving him up the wall.

He wanted to shout and rave that he was feeling more than enough in his own mind over the situation; the pity quota was already at maximum.

Why couldn’t people see that?

“Yuuri.”

Viktor leaned forward as the doctor began unwrapping a new set of gauze. Yuuri struggled to maintain eye contact with him as the blotchy foot disappeared under unmarred, bright gauze.

“Yuuri, the doctor said it’s normal to have this much swelling right after the operation, love. Give it a few weeks, and it should start looking much better.”

The nurse must have left the room, because now it was just the two of them. Yuuri glanced away from Viktor, transfixed by his bulbous stump of a foot. It was hard to believe it would ever go back to normal. He clenched the sheets of his bed. Unbidden, emotions surged like a tidal wave.

He wanted to get out of here. It was all too much with his scattered thoughts. His fingers twitched. Normally he’d go somewhere on his own, some place where he could decompress, like the rink –

Yuuri gasped sharply.

That wasn’t an option anymore, wouldn’t be an option for a long time, if ever. Where could he go, now that his sanctuary was stripped from him?

What … what would he do?

His gasps came quicker now. He was faintly aware of someone fluttering around him, calling his name, but it was secondary to his panic. His lungs burned. His vision was going blurry. His heart felt like it was in his throat.

Oh god, he just wanted it all to end, for this devilish nightmare to be over, he just wanted –

Something rough brushed his face, and Yuuri jumped as it landed in his lap.

A crinkled paper bag lay in his lap. Yuuri lifted the contents; they were warm to the touch.

He swallowed.

“Pirozhki.”

When he looked at the door, he was unsurprised to see a frowning Yurio, who, for once, didn’t seem to have _that_ concerned look when speaking to him. No, instead Yurio looked _mad_.

A tentative smile split his face. Yurio certainly was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yurio, come here.”

He held out his arms, even though tremors still racked his body.

Yurio hesitated for only a moment before launching himself towards the bed. Yuuri heard a concerned shout from Viktor, but it was for naught, because as furious as Yurio could be at times, the hug he bestowed upon Yuuri had to be the softest he’d ever seen him.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around Yurio, who was now shaking. He met Viktor’s pale gaze over his shoulder; he was gnawing his bottom lip as he watched them.

“I fucking hate you,” Yurio sobbed. Yuuri stroked his back, tightening his grip. “If – if you ever leave us again I’m going to … to track you down and kill you, understand?”

Yuuri laughed thickly. A few tears tracked down his face. It was so good to see him again. His brashness was its own unique form of therapy.

“It’s good to see you too, Yurio.”

Yurio hugged him tightly for a moment longer, then shoved himself away just as quickly. Yuuri could detect a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I brought you the usual again, except this time Grandpa added a few curry ones in there as well; it’s a new flavor he’s trying out.”

Yuuri clasped the bag tighter. His heart swelled with fondness.

“Thank you, Yurio,” he said. He smiled as more tears leaked out. “From both of you.”

Yurio stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket. “You’re welcome, Katsudon,” he spoke gruffly, just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

As Yurio fidgeted awkwardly near the edge of the bed, Yuuri placed the pirozhki on the bedside table. Viktor was now seated in his usual spot to his right. When Yuuri rested his hand against the bed again, he reached across and squeezed it.

And there it was again – that anxious, walking-on-egg-shells expression. Yuuri’s heart sank. He squeezed Viktor’s hand back and mustered a smile, but it was probably lack luster. His gaze returned like a magnet to his foot.

The room was quiet. All that could be heard was the faint rumble of the heating system. Yurio cleared his throat.

“You know, once you get better I’m gonna wipe the floor with you on the rink. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you either, Katsudon –”

“Yuri!” Viktor admonished, silencing him mid speech.

Yuuri flinched, staring down at his lap.

“You … you will be able to skate again, right?” Yurio asked hesitantly.

Yuuri’s eyebrows scrunched. The truth was, even he wasn’t entirely sure. Even if, by all odds, the ankle healed in six months like the doctor’s claimed, would he even have the mental capacity to go back to competition? Yuuri knew he was mentally weak, had accepted this ingrained fact about himself, but after everything he just truly didn’t know if he could manage it.

“I – I’m not sure,” he said. And that was the crux of the matter, because even if he healed physically, the mental battle was always his fiercest competitor, and now it seemed that the odds were stacked against him more so than they’d ever been.

“No, Yuuri. You _will_ skate again. I’m – ” Here he faltered, then swallowed. “I’m not going to let you!” he declared without an ounce of uncertainty.

How did Yurio have so much faith in him, even after witnessing to his break down? It was just incomprehensible to Yuuri. Didn’t he see how shattered he was, what a mess he was?

“You will Yuuri,” Viktor spoke now. His voice wavered, but was strong, stronger than anything Yuuri had seen from him since waking. “I’ll be – we’ll be right there with you as you get stronger. You’ll skate on the ice again, darling, and I’ll stay close to you every step of the way.”

Yuuri smiled, even as tears prickled his eyes. The love he had for this man was staggering. This man, who was clearly struggling with this situation and trying dearly to make the best of it, even if his methods left a little to be desired. Yuuri remembered how Viktor looked when he woke – limp hair, dark undereye circles, and frantic eyes. It was so obvious that the past few months had drained him, and Yuuri’s heart lurched terribly at the thought of Viktor alone in the apartment as he agonized over his absence.

It was clear; he needed to talk with him, sort a few things out. They both were hurting, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t heal together.

He stared at his foot again, an imposing lump against the end of the bed. But still, he thought, he really did need some time to process things. Without the escape of the rink, or any of his haunts he frequented when everything was just too much, there was no real escape other than sleep.

He just wanted to be alone.

“I think I’ll just take a nap. You two should go take a walk, get some food. You haven’t eaten all day, Viktor.” He settled into the pillows and pulled the blanket up. Viktor’s hand tensed.

“Are you sure?”

Yuuri hummed. He met both of their gazes separately.

“I’m sure.”

Viktor still hesitated, but Yurio strode forward and clasped his shoulder.

“C’mon, old man, time to let Katsudon get his beauty sleep.”

As Yurio tugged Viktor out of the room, Yuuri turned on his side and gazed at the stark white wall, almost completely unmarred save for a sprinkle of brown discoloration near the tiles.

 

* * *

 

Viktor stared out a window, following the path of the people on the street below, all bustling through the cold, hunkered down as they plowed on to their destination.

Today had been a bad day for Yuuri, both physically and mentally. The underlying stress of recovering was one thing, but then the added stress of the ankle just compounded things.

And Viktor was helpless.

It was hard to say whether Yuuri would be able to skate again or not, but Viktor would be damned if he didn’t give Yuuri and his recovery his best effort. The thought that Yuuri may not be able to skate again frightened Viktor more than anything. He’d had the idea that, upon finding Yuuri, he would take him out to skate when things overwhelmed him, but upon discovering his ankle injury he knew it would be a bit more complicated than that.

The doctors assured Viktor that people who had undergone surgeries on fractured ankles managed to recover most of their range of motion, but what it really came down to was rigorous physical therapy and determination to recover on the patient’s part.

Viktor took a little solace in that fact; he was familiar with coaching, and helping Yuuri during his physical recovery was just a slightly different variant. Viktor would be his guide, his cheerleader. It was the least he could do, when he was so lost in everything else.

“Oi, Viktor!”

A sharp thump against his back sent Viktor careening forward; he barely managed to reach up a hand to prevent his face from smacking into the glass.

“What the hell was that back there?”

Viktor turned slowly. Yurio scowled up at him from under a cheetah printed hood, hair in disarray.

Viktor’s lips thinned. Yurio was too childish, too naive – he didn’t expect him to understand what a precarious position Viktor was in, or what it meant if he screwed it up.

“I’m doing what I can, Yurio,” he offered, because it was true. Viktor was entirely over his head with this situation. He knew he wasn’t doing his best for Yuuri’s sake, but he’d learn. _He would._

It just may take some time.

“Sure,” Yurio scoffed. “But when I came in the room today all you were doing was fluttering around him while he was melting down – real helpful, by the way – and staring at him like he’d shatter any moment.”

Viktor flinched as if slapped. He didn’t realize it was that noticeable.

“I – I just … ” He bit his lip. As Viktor struggled for words, Yurio’s pinched eyebrows relaxed as his eyes softened.

“I just want – _need_ \- to be there for him, but he’s gone through something I can barely comprehend, Yurio, and I’m terrified out of my mind that I’m going to do something wrong. You can’t imagine how desperately I want him to get better.”

Yurio sighed. “You don’t need to coddle him, Viktor. Trust me, sometimes when you’re hurt, the very last thing you want to be reminded of is how much you’re hurting.”

Viktor was quiet. Unbidden, Kitagawa’s sharp words repeated through his head.

“But what if,” he said hesitantly, quietly, “what if he’s not the same person.” Speaking aloud his worst fear had an alarming quality to it, as if it made it more real.

Yurio’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “Well I wouldn’t expect him to be the same person.” His lips sneered. “Honestly, Viktor, of course he’s going to be different; there’s no way he wouldn’t be.”

“Yes, but what if -”

“Shut up, ok? Yuuri is going to be different – end of story. But you know what else? I’m different too after this. So is Mila, so is Georgi, so is Yakov, and everyone else caught up in this. And you know what? So are you.”

Viktor gaped, words caught in his throat.

“And if this is the thing that’s holding you back from helping Yuuri, you need to get over yourself, because I plan on getting Yuuri healthy again, and I’m not letting your sorry butt interfere with his recovery.”

Yurio panted after his tirade, glaring up at Viktor through his fringe. Viktor’s eyes were suddenly blurry, and oh, was that a tear running down his cheek? It must have been, because Yurio’s eyes were widening, and as Viktor pulled him against his chest in a fierce hug, Yurio vocalized his displeasure with a sharp squawk.

“Oi!”

Yurio struggled a little, but it was a weak effort, because shortly he stopped fighting and just allowed Viktor to hold him.

“You know I’m not the best at dealing with things like this,” he began, deciding to ignore the snort Yurio gave at the statement, “But I’m trying, Yurio,” he said, squeezing the boy tightly against his chest.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m here to keep you in line, then,” Yurio said. His voice was muffled against his coat.

Viktor chuckled.

“Yes.”

A moment passed in silence before Viktor spoke again.

“Say, Yurio, how’d you get so wise?”

A scoff vibrated against his chest. “Always have been, dumbass. You’ve just been too thick to notice.”

Viktor smiled. He was so blessed to have such dear people in his life. He sometimes forgot the magnitude of support he had. He and Yuuri weren’t alone in this. Yurio, with his usual lack of tack and bluster, had made that apparent enough.

The support was here, the resources were here, and the only factor that remained was time.

Time and patience.

“Yuuri will be ok; we’ll make sure of it,” Viktor said.

His voice shook how much he wanted it to be true. Maybe if he willed it hard enough in his mind, it would be.

Yuuri wouldn’t ever be the same again.

But maybe, he thought, shoving down Kitagawa’s voice until it was as faint as a background buzz, that would be ok.

 

* * *

 

Mari’s heart thumped wildly in her chest, as if it could leap out of her throat at any moment. She’d been trailing Isao for the better part of half an hour. She knew this was dangerous, inadvisable, but it was as if something had possessed her the moment she saw concrete evidence against him.

They were now off the main roads, which made it even more perilous. These winding roads were poorly lit and there was little traffic at this time of night, which made it all the more difficult for Mari to track him. She had to stay a good twenty meters behind just to avoid suspicion.

She’d noticed that Isao’s driving had been rather erratic on their journey. He would speed up occasionally, and not just a slight increase, but enough that Mari had to floor the gas pedal to keep him in sight. On top of that, he’d been swerving – not enough to collide with oncoming traffic or careen off the road, but certainly enough to draw her eye.

Isao was one of those rare meticulous types. She had to believe that extended to every aspect of his life, driving included, which just added more fuel to the fire.

He was definitely hiding something, all right, and the stress was making him come apart at the seams.

Mari drove for a few more minutes, but then huffed angrily as a car behind her nearly blinded her from her rear-view mirror with their high beams. The car was right on her bumper too. Mari grit her teeth.

Damn tail gaiter.

The driver got more annoying as they flashed their lights, and Mari cursed out loud. She really hated drivers like this. Just go around her, for god’s sake! They were going to get them both in a wreck if they continued like this.

After another minute of flashing, the driver seemed to reach their tolerance level and shot across the dividing line to the other lane, speeding up drastically to overtake her.

Mari glanced over, reading to hurl some not so nice insults at the driver, when a familiar face met her gaze.

Tamaki Taro had his window pulled down, and was frantically gesturing at Mari to pull over, but she hesitated. Tamaki must have the same suspicion about Isao as her, but if she pulled over now, would she lose track of him? She glanced at the bat laying innocuously in the passenger seat.

Maybe it would be a good idea to have some help after all …

She pulled over into the gravel shoulder and turned off the engine. Tamaki parked a few meters ahead of her, and was already striding out of his car in her direction.

She opened the door.

“I can’t allow you to follow him, Katsuki-san.”

Mari’s ire rose. So he was just planning on shutting her out?

“Like I care. I’m going, and you can’t stop me.”

Impossibly, Tamaki’s posture straitened even more upon her statement.

“I can’t allow civilian involvement,” he replied sternly. “You know this.”

“But Viktor got to go with the detectives,” she insisted, feeling suddenly childlike, but it was true. Viktor had been with Kozar pretty much the entire way, from the beginning of the case to the end.

Tamaki huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s because Kozar is an unchained force that flaunts the rules and hardly thinks of the consequences.” He lowered his hand. “Unlike him I understand the risks you’d be taking – I’d be taking.”

Mari crossed her arms, argument flowing out of her, but still wanting to give at least a little effort. “I know what I’m sighing up for.”

Tamaki lowered his hand. “Do you?” He searched her face. “Because I don’t think you do, Katsuki-san.”

Mari pursed her lips. She wasn’t that naive. She had heard some of the details about Kitagawa, had seen true crime shows and all the horrors that occurred. And besides, they were running out of time just standing here doing nothing.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, because the longer we stand here and do nothing, the more time that asshole has to cover anything up.”

Something shifted in Tamaki’s expression – a minute upturn of his lips, perhaps, or a sudden sparkle in his eyes.

“I’ve had my eye on Kanbayashi Isao-san long before we met in person. The fact that he willingly offered to get involved in the case was a boon I wasn’t expecting, though. With him so closely involved, I could keep him under my watch, monitor him closely.”

Mari’s eyes widened.

“We already have a police warrant to search his house; I got it long ago, in fact. As we speak, detectives I’ve stationed in Shiiba are converging on his estate.”

Mari couldn’t help the delighted laugh that overcame her, and yes, that was definitely a satisfied twinkle in Tamaki’s eyes. That idiot Isao was driving head first into a trap.

Oh, how she wished she could see that smug expression of his shatter!

“We’ve been waiting for the proper moment to strike - Kanbayashi-san has always been a slippery one, after all - and this was it. As soon as he left the onsen, I contacted my agents to initiate action. And after that, I received a call from Kozar. Apparently, he’s found evidence that Kanbayashi-san is in fact involved in this whole kidnapping scheme.”

Mari’s grin was blinding now.

“And all those promises of absolving him if he gave information?”

Tamaki’s smile was wicked.

“Plea bargains are null and void if evidence is found that the informant was lying,” he said. His glasses gleamed off the reflection of her head lights.

The bastard thought he was so smart, she thought with glee, yet here he was now, about to be beaten by his own game.

“Game, set, and match,” she grinned.

 

This was the sweetest satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my fellow angst lovers!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed that Isao POV, which was so much fun to write. The man thinks he's so superior, but in reality he's just as bad, if not worse, than Ko.  
> And Volya! (another fun char to write, who I'm really wishing I had featured more in Alexei's flashbacks, but oh well) What's going on with him? Is he trying to escape? What's his mental state like after years of Isao's care?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! More to come next time!
> 
> (Oh, and also just realized it's been over a year that I've been writing this! Crazy, yeah? Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me, and warm regards to anyone who has just begun the journey. Couldn't have made it here without your support!)
> 
>  
> 
> [This is, most unfortunately, where I spend most of my time online. Come say hi!](https://katyaton.tumblr.com/)


	16. Everything and Nothing

“And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”   
― **Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five**

**Chapter 16: Everything and Nothing**

A strong wind blustered against the building, drawing out a symphony of creaks and groans in the quiet of the afternoon. Stray beams of light pierced the blinds; an otherwise bright point in the musky waiting room.

Alexei tracked the rays, distracted by the dust motes that whirled and flecked, never truly settling before a stray draft sent them spiraling again in an endless cycle of up and down, side to side. They reminded him of freshly fallen snow, the kind that was dry enough to float meanderingly in the air without a fixed direction.

The kind that would fall, fall, fall, until it nestled in a sheet of white.

Crisp, clean, snow.

…

Marred by red.

Alexei closed his eyes. Flashes of that night replayed like a reel; Kitagawa’s deranged expression, the textured grip of the pistol, the grim and overwhelming satisfaction surging through him like a high.

There was no denying it, not when he was alone now with his only his thoughts – he wanted to kill her, almost desperately so, for every time he pondered shooting her again, a flicker of satisfaction curled and bubbled with joy.

He knew he wasn’t alone in this sentiment either. It was chaos when he found Viktor confronting Kitagawa, gun in hand, and in the split second before Alexei fired, he saw the same thoughts broadcasted as clear as day on Viktor’s face.

Oh, Viktor had been conflicted, that much was a given, but Alexei could tell it was there all the same; Viktor wanted her dead just as much as Alexei.

He sighed.

That, at least, was a comforting thought.

He chugged the lukewarm coffee from his thermos and deflated against the stiff chair. After interviewing Yuuri for an hour, he called it quits when his responses turned monosyllabic and his face glassy-eyed.

It was good to take a break anyway, because the increasingly sour look Viktor was shooting him implied he’d be forced out sooner rather than later. And besides, he was waiting for a call any moment now. It had been hours since his call to Tamaki, and he’d been on pins and needles waiting to find out the verdict.

He drummed his fingers against the thermos, agitated.

The message from Volya – one from beyond the grave, no less – had been plaguing his mind like a cancer. After Yuuri retold some of the details of his capture, Alexei’s unease continued to mount. He suspected, no, _knew_ that there was more Yuuri wasn’t telling him; he had seen more than his far share of victims trailing off into horrified silence as they drowned in memories, and Yuuri was no different.

The door to the waiting room swung open, followed by a whirlwind of blond hair and lanky limbs.

“I come bearing gifts!” Nina announced, precariously balancing a cardboard tray with coffee, a brown paper bag, and her briefcase, grin far too bright for the kind of late nights they’d been pulling recently.

Alexei grumbled under his breath. A few of the others in the waiting room cast her wary looks.

Nina halted half way, frowning. A woman two seats from Alexei eyed her beadily over her newspaper.

She laughed uncomfortably.

“Ah, sorry about that, folks.”

She eased down in the seat next to him. Alexei snorted.

Her lips pursed but she said no more, and instead reached into the bag and shoved a bagel under his nose. Alexei clasped the offering like a lifeline.

“I knew there was a reason I like you.”

Nina smiled as she took a bite of her own bagel, eyes drifting to the files on his lap.

“Get anything good out of Yuuri?”

Alexei shifted uneasily. Nina’s brusque arrival had made him forget his earlier worries.

“More than enough, and then some. Not to mention there’s the things he’s _not_ saying on top of that.”

Nina nodded slowly.

“That’s good news, yes?”

“Yes,” he replied hollowly.

“Or not?”

Alexei shook his head unseeingly, biting his lip.

Yuuri’s dark eyes and solemnly spoken words rattled like a mantra.

 _“I still feel her here with me_ , _even now,”_ he had said, gesturing vaguely near his temple. “ _She wanted me as her own, wanted to possess me, make me someone else entirely. I wasn’t Katsuki Yuuri when I was with her. I wasn’t even Hoshito, really. More like a strange combination of all whom had come before.”_

Yuuri had clammed up after that, emerging from his memories as he digested what he admitted in front of everyone. An icy chill hovered in the air. Viktor looked shocked beyond words, eyes wide and face pale, before seemingly shaking himself out of his stupor and clasping Yuuri’s hand, muttering platitudes too soft to make out.

Alexei had excused himself after that.

Nina placed her bagel on her lap and turned towards him. Alexei grasped his coffee like a lifeline, chugging down a few drops in an attempt to flush Yuuri’s words out of his mind.

Once he swallowed, Nina leaned forward.

“Well? Are you plan to tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to do an internal investigation here?”

“I -” he faltered. There was no way to convey what he’d been feeling; the anger, the hollowness, the pain.

Alexei had never really been good with words, not like his brother.

Not like Volya.

Shit.

Goddammit all to hell!

The anger crested and surged, and Alexei stood, uncontrolled, unseeing, unreal, for he had to, because Volya would never get the chance to feel any of these emotions, feel anything at all. Because Yuuri would forever carry some fraction of that darkness as long as he lived.

A pressure on his cheeks, and then ringing silence; a sea of startled eyes; the accusatory crinkling of newspaper and down turned lips.

Nina’s face was a breath’s width away. She clasped his hand.

And so she tugged him out of the waiting room, away from the stares, away from the judging eyes, and through the door into the quiet hall. The door shut with a soft thud, and then he was enveloped in a tight hug. And he clung to her, for she was the only real thing in the world right now.

In the last seven years.

“I know,” she whispered.

He gasped, shuddering horribly against her shoulder.

“Wha – what’s the point of all of this?” he whispered. “What’s the goddamn point?”

Because this was an endless, endless cycle, wasn’t it? They’d solve a case or two, put the bad guy away, and for what? If this job taught him anything it was that mankind was infinitely, impossibly, inconceivably cruel.

This was the bitter reality of the job, what it awakened you to.

Blood. Death. Destruction.

Nina squeezed him tightly.

“Because we’re human, Alexei, and we care. We care so damn much that it nearly kills us. And you know what? Sometimes criminals do fall through the cracks; you know as well as I that the system isn’t perfect. But for every one that gets stopped, countless lives are saved. We saved Yuuri Katsuki’s life, Alexei. Don’t forget that. And by saving him, just think of how many others we saved from the same fate.”

He nodded, but still the tears flowed.

The moment seemed suspended outside of time. Neither here nor there. Neither past nor present. She held him for an immeasurable stretch, and then she shifted, drawing back to stare at him steadily.

Fine little pin pricks of hair poked into his cheek; he scrunched his nose.

“Your hair’s getting long,” he sputtered weakly, dislodging a few strands that had clung to the wetness on his face.

She chuckled softly and shook her head, allowing more hair to brush his face.  

Alexei recoiled.

“And your hair’s getting thinner. Are you sure you don’t want some of mine? I can donate some if you like. Just give me a few years to grow it out again.”

He wacked her back sharply and she laughed.

“Shut up.”

Luckily, she seemed content to leave it at that, laughs subsiding and fading into silence. Alexei sighed into the hug, content to just stay there for a little while longer even if it meant risking another sharp jab.

They were quite before Nina spoke again.

“I’ve had no time to get it cut with everything going on.”

And wasn’t that true? Alexei hadn’t realized just how little time he’d had to himself over the past couple of months, but now that Kitagawa was finally, _finally_ captured and Yuuri returned alive and well, it was like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

It was odd – almost like he was in limbo. He didn’t really know what to do with himself anymore.

“You know,” she continued thoughtfully, “I haven’t had long hair since grade school, but perhaps … perhaps it’s time for a change.”

She squeezed his shoulders tightly and then pulled back from the hug, keeping Alexei at arm’s length as she eyed him significantly.

Alexei squirmed under her knowing gaze. He hated when she got like this; when her words were not just words, but subtext wrapped in layers of interpretation and subtle looks. He’d never really been good at figuring out what she meant, but now, after everything that had happened, he found it obvious. If he really thought about it, it was mostly because he had been of this mindset for quite some time. All he really needed was an extra push, another’s reassurance that it was the right thing to do.

“Perhaps it is,” he replied slowly.

Her eyes roved over his face, and as a slow smile curved her lips, he knew with sudden clarity that everything would be ok, that they would be ok.

Maybe things were a little tumultuous right now. Maybe he had no idea what path lay ahead. But maybe that was ok – maybe this uncertainty was normal when multiple changes were in store.

Quite suddenly, his cellphone blared through the quiet.

Alexei shifted back from Nina’s embrace to see Tamaki Taro’s name flashing on the screen while the most horrible, lovely anticipation came with it.

He accepted the call.

“Kozar.”

And within seconds, everything changed. The world shifted on its axis as Tamaki whispered words of revelation through his head.

His hand shook; the phone clattered to the ground.

 

***

 

“Thank you for doing this, Viktor.”

Viktor’s hand stilled on Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezed lightly in response. It wouldn’t do to remind Yuuri that he would have done this anyway without Yuuri’s pleading stare. And besides, helping Yuuri would afford him the opportunity to get closer to Yuuri than he had been in months.

 _Of course,_ _Viktor would volunteer to help Yuuri bathe in leu of the nurse._

“Easy does it,” he said, helping Yuuri crutch to the en suite bathroom. Viktor fiddled with the silicon sleeve the nurse gave him to slide over Yuuri’s cast to prevent water from seeping through. Yuuri eased onto the edge of the tub and lifted his leg, allowing Viktor to slide it on.

He then leaned over and turned on the faucet, allowing the water to warm. When he turned to look at Yuuri again, he was completely nude, hospital gown discarded on a nearby chair.

This was the first time he’d seen Yuuri in full since the kidnapping, and he was beyond relived to see that no other hidden injuries were present. Other than the obvious malnutrition, he looked all right, if one overlooked the ankle and the slashes across his chest. It was comforting to know that at least the outside was healing even if the inside was another story.

Viktor was still reeling from the interview with Alexei this morning and all the things it revealed, both said and unsaid. That was another reason why he readily volunteered to help Yuuri with this; he needed the physical closeness and reassurance after the harsh revelations this morning.

His eyes roved back to Yuuri’s face which held a tint of pink.  

 “Is it really that bad?”

Viktor stood up from his crouch slowly, gaze intense. Reaching out to his chin, Viktor lifted his head which had titled toward the floor. Yuuri expression held apprehension and a hint of embarrassment.

“My love, there is nothing about you that isn’t beautiful,” he spoke, so softly it could barely be heard above the water plunking into the tub.

Yuuri’s eyes scrunched and his body shifted uneasily. He opened his mouth to protest but Viktor cut him off.

“I see so many things when I look at you.”

Cautiously, observing Yuuri’s reaction, he began trailing his hands down his shoulders to his biceps, and when Yuuri showed no signs of distress, he continued.

“I see your strength.”

He briefly squeezed the muscles and glanced at Yuuri through his fringe. Yuuri’s lips trembled. Viktor looked down again, trailing his hands up Yuuri’s arms and down to the scars covering his stomach. He traced them carefully with his finger; Yuuri’s muscles twitched.

“I see your resilience.”

He trailed his hands lower, past his hips and down his thighs until he was crouching, hands stroking over the unbroken ankle, the reason they were able to meet in the first place.

“I see your passion.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched at that statement, and still, Viktor continued. He straightened out of the squat and locked eyes with Yuuri, both hands clasped over a thrumming chest. Viktor’s voice was wobbly now.

“I see your heart.”

His hands traced up his shoulder and to Yuuri’s jaw, cradling the weight of it beneath his palms. Viktor’s thumbs stroked near the corners of his eyes.

“I see your love.”

The tears that had been pooling in Yuuri’s eyes leaked out, along with some of Viktor’s own, and as they fell Viktor swiped them up with his thumb. Yuuri’s eyes were shinning as they roved his face, and still Viktor continued to stare, hoping that the words spoken and unspoken would be enough, that Yuuri would understand and meet him where he was at.

Yuuri bit his lip before closing the gap, pulling Viktor against his body, crutches clattering to the ground. Viktor shuddered, burying his face into his shoulder and inhaling his scent. Yuuri clutched him with more strength than he’d shown since waking, and with every thud of his heart, Viktor could feel the endless chasm of the past few months slowly fill piece by piece.

“Promise you’ll always see me, Viktor.”

“Of course I will, my love, of course I will,” he crooned.

Yuuri’s nails dug into his back.

“No, I mean …”

Viktor lifted his head from Yuuri’s shoulder and placed it against Yuuri’s, forehead to forehead.

“Hmm?”

“You – you have to always remember what you see, even when I’m not at my best.” Yuuri paused, steeling himself. “You have to remember that I have the strength, the resilience, the passion, the heart, and the love to carry on.”

Yuuri’s voice was wavering yet strong, his gaze steady and true.

The conversation with Yurio in the hall flashed through Viktor’s mind.

He sighed.

“I realize I’ve been coddling you, Yuuri. I get that now, truly. I guess … I guess I’m a little scared too, of what’s coming next and what all this means for our future. I so terribly want to help you heal, Yuuri, but I’m so, so scared of making the wrong move.”

Yuuri sighed – the puff of warm air caressed Viktor’s lips.

“I’m not going to shatter into a million pieces, Vitya. You don’t have to treat me like an invalid.”

Viktor closed his eyes and deflated into Yuuri’s hold.

Yuuri was a strong person – the strongest Viktor knew. There would likely be good days and bad days as he recovered, but the end result would be the same – Yuuri was going to be ok, and Viktor had to trust in that and let Yuuri forge his own path. He was going to be there for every step, of course, but he’d be there as a partner, rather than the leader.

“Yes, I know. I know that now. I suppose I just needed a little reminder of how strong you are, Yuuri. I think I forgot in our time apart.”

“That’s all I want.”

“I’ll remember from now on Yuuri, I promise.” Viktor squeezed him tightly. “I’ll never stop seeing you.”

And just like that, lips met lips, and they were kissing. Viktor shuddered as a damn burst in his heart, and he cried and he laughed and he moaned into the embrace. As the barrier between them shattered, the crevice in his heart filled just a little more.

With time, they stopped, panting against the other. They only came back to reality when Yuuri startled and looked down.

Water covered the floor.

Viktor cursed, flailing as he leaned to shut the tap off. He reached into the tub and lifted the stop, allowing some of the water to drain before more overflowed. Viktor stood up slowly and took stock. There was at least half a centimeter of water covering the entire bathroom.

“The nurses are never going to let me help you again,” Viktor said ruefully.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully.

“I guess we’ll just have to make this one count, then,” Yuuri replied. He sat down on the edge of the bath and stopped the draining water now that it was at a more acceptable level. He glanced back at Viktor.

“Well? Are you just going to stare at me or are you planning on getting in?”

Hardly believing his luck, Viktor scrambled, shedding his trousers in a flurry. He clambered into the tub, careful to keep Yuuri’s ankle elevated above the water over the side. He settled in behind him, and the angle was awkward but the feeling of Yuuri’s back pressed into his chest was anything but.

Viktor washed him for a few minutes. After cleaning him as best he could, his hands settled around Yuuri’s waist, fingers resting against the raised skin of the healing wounds.

“I’m still scared, Yuuri,” he whispered, lips touching the back of his neck.

Yuuri exhaled.

 “Me too.”

It was clear: They both had a good bit of healing they needed to address, but that was ok, because they had time, and most importantly, they had each other.

Yuuri clasped Viktor’s hand covering his scar and squeezed lightly.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

 

***

 

The scenery blurred by like a series of kaleidoscope images, all meshing and dissolving into one unidentifiable mass. Lights littered the city – little pinpricks that grew larger and more defined as the plane descended. From up above, everything seemed so small and insignificant. It was preposterous that all of human life and understanding was contained on this little planet: All the advancements, all the beauty, all the pain housed on this little speck of dust in an insignificant corner of the galaxy.

And yet it was.

As the plane touched down into Narita International, Alexei unstuck his face from the side of the window. The pilot was speaking in rapid Japanese, and its foreign nature and the scratchy intercom was a jarring transition back to life on the ground.

And then everything came flooding back, as if being suspended above the Earth took all his troubles away. He had no words to describe his emotions in the last few hours. It was too much all at once. Tamaki had found Volya? Alive?

It was something he refused to believe at first, and it was only Tamaki’s steady tones and Nina’s reassurance that convinced him, but that belief was a tentative thing. A part of him refused to let go of his last and most enduring wall of self-defense.

Everything was a whirlwind after that. Nina had arranged everything for him - booking his flight, finding a hotel room, and compiling the proper documentation forms before hugging him tightly and sending him off through airport security.

Alexei filed off the plane woodenly, a speck of a human in the infernal system that was mass public transit. He searched blearily for Tamaki among the throng of people in the arrivals. A hand clasped his shoulder.

“Detective Kozar.”

Alexei’s answering smile was shaky.

“It’s good to see you again, Tamaki.”

The corner of his lips quirked into a half smile. “And under much better circumstances, I might add.”

Alexei nodded.

“I presume you only came with a carry on, correct? Then let’s move out.”

Not one to waste time with platitudes, Tamaki nodded towards the exit and together they found the car and driver awaiting their arrival. They settled into the back seat of a very posh BMW, something that Alexei noted with mild annoyance – they didn’t have this kind of funding where he worked -  and rode out of the airport, the engine purring quietly in the background. It wasn’t long until the airport was just a distant image in the rear-view mirror.

Alexei drummed his fingers on the side of the car door.

“I suspect you’d appreciate a briefing?” Tamaki asked, and his formality, while usually quite welcome, lit a flicker of annoyance in him. Clinical detachment was something that was stressed in the academy – a desensitization method to help detectives see their work clearly, rationally, and without emotion - but this wasn’t just some run of the mill case. This was his goddamn brother, after all.

 “Please, enlighten me,” he snapped.

Tamaki took a breath to speak but then paused, apparently rethinking his statement. Alexei frowned. That little pause was telling enough for someone as composed as Tamaki.

“Physically, Volya Kozar is in good health. Several doctors have checked him out and can find no maladies.”

Alexei waited, and when Tamaki made no move to elaborate further, he prodded him.

“But …?”

Tamaki glanced at him through the corner of his square glasses.

“I’m sure you’ve been around your share of victims who seem almost perfectly adjusted, but then little things start to add up - minute facial expressions, odd phrasing, or strange body language, for example. From my brief time interviewing him, it’s clear that Mr. Kozar is harboring a lot of pain over his kidnapping and subsequent detainment, despite appearing outwardly no worse for wear. I fear more … concerning behaviors may bubble to the surface as time commences.”

Alexei’s thrumming on the door stopped abruptly. He was familiar with victims who acted like that, and it never really turned out well for them. Almost all of them needed serious help, or even worse, ended up in even more dire straits from their own self destruction.

“Then … I’ll just have to be there for him,” Alexei decided, and there really was no other option. Even though Volya was an adult now – a fact that Alexei was still wrapping him mind around – there was no way he’d let him live on his own after being apart for so long.

It could be nice, really. They’d get an apartment together, travel a little, maybe even go skating …?

“I think spending some time together, just the two of us, will do him a world of good. That’s my plan at least, for now - to be there for him in any way I can.”

Tamaki hummed, thoughtful.

“Are you planning on taking leave from the force?”

Alexei frowned. He had barely admitted this to himself and only insinuated it with Nina, so he wasn’t keen on advertising it, but by Tamaki’s knowing gaze, it wouldn’t do him well to avoid the loaded question.

“Perhaps … indefinite leave.”

Tamaki hummed again.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. It even seems like a logical choice for you. I don’t think you ever really enjoyed playing by such strict rules.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” Alexei replied, slightly affronted.

“Am I wrong?”

Alexei pursed his lips.

“ … No.”

Tamaki’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses, and it reminded Alexei quite vividly of the few times talking to him through video chat – it was the same smug, yet muted look of glee he had when finding clues that were smoking guns.

Alexei wondered why he hadn’t noticed that until now.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the entryway of a hospital. Tamaki and Alexei gathered their things and filed out of the car.

“I’ll take you to his room and give you clearance past the guard stationed outside his room. Once there you can choose to stay the night or to call me to arrange you a hotel.”

“Great,” he said, feeling not so great at all now that they were here.

They made their way through the lobby and rode up the elevator four floors, and as every second elapsed Alexei felt a growing unease mount. The exited the elevator and walked a short distance to a room with an officer staged out front. Tamaki spoke in Japanese to the man who then stood aside, and quite suddenly Alexei felt very, very small.

 “I suppose this is where I leave you.” He clasped his shoulder and squeezed, and from someone as closed off as Tamaki, it was as good as a full-bodied hug.  “Good luck, Alexei – with this and with the rest of your life. You had rather questionable methods at times, but even I have to admit you were an effective detective. You will be missed.”

Alexei couldn’t help the small burst of nervous laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you give me a complement. What a strange day this has turned out to be.”

Tamaki’s lip twitched.

“Strange, indeed, but the sentiment remains nonetheless.”

Alexei blinked as a suspicious prickling behind his eyes struck him, and rather than say anything and make a fool of himself, he settled with a brusque nod.

Tamaki smiled a little before his face settled back into it’s usual sternness. He clasped Alexei’s hand in a firm shake; Alexei’s arm felt particularly boneless and floppy.

“I wish you and your brother all the best. We’ll be in contact as the trial commences.”

As Tamaki began walking away, Alexei stilled. After seven years of sleepless nights and anguished dreams, having only a slat of wood separate him from his brother felt unreal.

“I can’t believe he’s here,” he whispered.

Tamaki halted and regarded Alexei over his shoulder.

“Go and see for yourself, detective. I’ve never known you to back down from a mystery before.”

 

***

 

The profile of a figure was against the window, illuminated dimly by the hotel lamp and the smattering of city lights. The figure was slim and angular. They sat in a stiff armchair, head tilted over a worn paperback.

When Alexei entered, they tilted their head in acknowledgement but didn’t glance up from the book.

“Back again so soon, detective?”

The voice was smooth and melodic. Soft, yet perfectly audible in the quiet of the room.

Alexei, too stunned for words, simply stared. When it was apparent that he wasn’t going to reply, the figure turned fully towards him, and Alexei’s heart caught in his throat.

The face was impossibly foreign yet achingly familiar. The eyes were the same shape and color, slightly slanted and light brown like Alexei’s own, but the depths they held contradicted so harshly with his memories. Glasses framed his face, resting elegantly on a refined nose, but the black, rectangular frames were a far cry from the red aviators Alexei was used to.

The Volya of today was a sharp study in contrast to the fresh-faced teen of days past.

“Alexei,” he whispered. He stood slowly from his chair and walked a few steps forward, eyes wide and cautious. Alexei’s hands trembled. Reaching out a hand tentatively, and then with more confidence as Volya did the same, they met in an embrace.

It was a bit of an awkward hug, but they were never really the touchy type of people to begin with, but even still feeling Volya alive and well beneath his arms filled Alexei with an indescribable warmth. This close to him, Alexei noticed that they were shoulder to shoulder, the exact same height.

It was an amazing yet sorrowful realization.

“You’ve grown a lot,” he choked.

Volya pulled back from the half-hug, eyebrows raised.

“I feel like I should be more shocked that this is the first thing you choose to say to me after so long, but honestly, I’m not even surprised.” Alexei sputtered, but Volya continued, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “But that was a classic Alexei greeting, so I suppose I should have expected it.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. And just like that he’d remembered how good Volya was at quick and acerbic wit; he’d have to be on guard again around him now; he was clearly out of practice.

Volya took a step back and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on the badge he forgot to take off in his haste to board the plane.

“When they told me you were a detective I had such a moment of cognitive dissonance; I kid you not. It’s hard to envision deadbeat, rebel Alexei acting like a Tamaki.”

Alexei winced. He was a bit of a punk back then, but then of course everything changed, and Alexei had no choice but to adjust to the new normal.

“But then I gave it more thought. Mind you, there’s not a lot to do when you’re under police lockdown. They only let me have one book,” he said, slightly indignant, gesturing towards the orange and yellow paperback by the window. “… but then I realized it was undeniably fitting for you to be the one to put the pieces together.”

“Why?” Alexei whispered. How was it that Volya had so much confidence in him, when Alexei had been slowly accepting the fact, year by year, that he’d never see him again?

Volya’s mouth quirked.

“Well for one, you’re smarter than you look – you’re related to me, after all.”

Alexei grumbled. Volya spoke a little louder.

“And besides, you’ve already saved me countless times. From bullies, from accidents, from myself. It only made sense that you’d come through in the end.”

What Volya was saying made him sound so heroic, but Alexei truly didn’t see it that way - that was just what brothers did. They were there for each other, through think and thin. That was all there was to it.

“Better late than never, right?”

Volya’s answering smile was soft, something that Alexei was glad to see hadn’t changed in all this time. Alexei relaxed a little. Maybe this wouldn’t be too hard.

“Let’s sit and talk, brother dear. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

***

 

Viktor’s heart constricted at the sight before him. Yuuri and his parents were huddled close together, not saying a whole lot, but speaking more in the long looks and gentle touches. They had come quietly into the hospital room just hours ago, trying their best to not overwhelm their son, but also desperate beyond belief if their frazzled expressions and red rimmed eyes were anything to go by.

It wasn’t long until everyone in the room was a crying mess – Viktor included – because for the first time in months, mother and father were reunited with both of their sons.

He had always been dumbfounded and endlessly grateful for the love the Katsuki’s had showered upon him from day one, but he could sense it was time for him to leave. He could see it in Hiroko’s hungry eyed look, fingers clasping Yuuri’s hand in a vice grip. He could hear it in the lack of Toshiya’s laughs, which were usually so booming and cheerful that they made any room seem small.

They needed a chance to reconnect, and Viktor would give them that. He slipped out of the room like a whisper, unnoticed by the three, and began wandering down the hall with no real destination in mind. 

He was so, so glad that he and Yuuri had the chance to talk earlier – it had made Viktor feel grounded and secure in the path ahead, but also gave him and Yuuri a much-needed chance to reconnect not just emotionally, but physically as well. He had forgotten how blissful it was to feel his lover’s body against his own, to expose all his flaws and insecurities so intimately to another.

The talk hadn’t cleared everything up, but it was clear the two of them were on the right path to healing. There would be bumps in the road, sure. The two of them would likely always harbor some demons from this time. But they would emerge together, made even stronger for the trails they would overcome as one.

Viktor blinked as he came to a crossroads in the hospital. He looked around curiously, haven forgotten entirely how he got here. He was on a different floor too, so he must have taken the elevator or stairs at some point.

Strange.

He took a left turn at the junction. The hallway was dimly lit and entirely quiet. Viktor proceed slowly, peering at the patient names adorning each placard on the doors. Most of patients were asleep, but one room at the end of the hallway was glowing faintly, light spilling out in a thin line from the slit in the door. Viktor moved closer and peered at the placard, but no name marked its occupant.

He frowned.

Not knowing what overcame him, he pressed his ear against the door and listened. At first he heard nothing at all, but then he became aware of a faint muttering, jilted and scrambled and making no sense at all. Only a few words were audile amongst the chaos.

Clearly, it was the ravings of a madwoman. But even worse - the voice was just as familiar, just as frightening as the one that haunted Viktor’s dreams and real life. His hand, unbidden, gripped the handle of the door. He opened it just a crack, and there Kitagawa lay, hands and feet strapped down to the bars of the bed. A bright red bracelet reading FLIGHT RISK was attached to her wrist. Well-fed and attended to, she looked better now than she probably had in years, if not for her crazed muttering and darting eyes.

A swooping rage, violet and entirely foreign in its intensity, overcame Viktor. He had never angered easily, and when he did, his anger was more of a quiet, contained thing. He didn’t see the sense in yelling and screaming, not when icy aloofness and petty words could cut just as deep.

But now? Now he was seeing red.

Just as he was planning on charging in, a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled. Viktor’s hand loosened off the door handle.

Nina shoved him against the opposite wall, eyes wide and frightened.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered.

Viktor stared dumbly, head still caught up in thoughts of Kitagawa and pain and red, red, red.

“God, Viktor. You’re lucky it’s my turn to relive Pestov and not one of the other detectives, cause this could look damn incriminating.”

Viktor jolted out of his thoughts.

“There’s another detective in there?”

Nina looked livid. She grabbed his arm and frog marched him down the hall so that they could speak in normal tones.

“Of course, there is. We’re not going to leave a suspect in an international case unguarded in her room,” she said tersely.

“I -”

“You do realize the trial will happen soon, right? And that Kitagawa will have a lawyer who will be looking for any reason at all to get her a lesser sentence?”

Viktor grimaced, but Nina continued, relentless.

“And what do you think would happen when one of my detectives is forced to testify that you came barreling in one night with intent to murder?”

She was right, completely right. But that didn’t invalidate the very real feelings coursing through him just now, nor did it make them go away.

“I didn’t think about that.”

Nina closed her eyes and exhaled, shaking her head.

“What am I going to do with these boys,” she muttered, and Viktor deflated, chastised.

When she opened her eyes, they were more understanding, soft.

“C’mon. Let me walk you back to Yuuri’s room. We can stop by the cafeteria on the way; It’ll be ok if I’m a few minutes late to relieve Pestov as long as I come with a muffin.”

And so they walked down the dim hall together, quiet. Viktor eyed Nina as they went. There was something different about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. She looked tired, but somehow impossibly more confident than he had ever seen her.

They arrived at the hospital, Nina grabbed a muffin, and Viktor picked up a few for Yuuri and his parents for good measure. As they waited in the line, something Nina said earlier came back to him.

“Nina …”

“Hmm?”

“You said something earlier … you said ‘my detectives.’”

Incredibly, Nina blushed.

“Well, yes. I suppose that’s a little presumptuous of me.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked around carefully, and after they checked out, took him farther into the sitting area and away from the crowd.

“Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this yet, so don’t say anything to anyone, ok?”

Viktor nodded, incredibly curious now.

“Alexei has gone to meet his brother in Japan. Tamaki found him alive with Isao Kanbayashi.”

“That’s incredible!” Viktor shouted, and in his excitement the muffins went tumbling.

And truly, it was. He had related to Alexei so much during these months. Both with a loved one lost, both the same age, both battling the inevitable loss of their hair. Viktor always suspected that Volya was long gone, and he figured Alexei did too, even if he never acknowledged it out loud.

“Yes, it is,” she said, smile warm. “I’m so glad he’s getting this second chance. You wouldn’t know since you just met him, but Alexei was very different before the kidnapping. A lot of things have changed for the better in him, but a lot of things were also lost. I’m hoping he takes the time to rediscover himself now that the world has righted itself again.”

Viktor smiled. Yes, Alexei truly deserved happiness, perhaps more than anyone he knew. They all did.

“You’re a good friend, Nina.”

Nina smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

“I’ll always wish that the circumstances of our meeting were different, but I have to say I’m so glad I met you, Viktor.”

Viktor hugged her tightly, touched beyond belief. It was a rare thing for him to make close friends, and he treasured each and every one. Despite what the media projected, he was actually a pretty private person.

“I’m glad we met too.”

Nina’s smile turned fond, then glanced down at Viktor’s crumpled muffins and picked them up for him. Luckily the plastic wrap kept them clean, but they were more like pancakes now. Viktor took them gratefully.

“But that still doesn’t answer my question, you know.”

Nina looked suddenly nervous, but strangely confident.

“Right … well you see … Alexei’s not planning on coming back to work after this case concludes.”

“You mean he’s quitting?”

“Yes, he made it pretty clear.”

Viktor was stunned.

“Wow,” he said slowly. “But what will he do?”

Nina shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. Everything. Nothing. Whatever makes him happy. I’m just glad he’s doing something for himself, for a change. This job was clearly killing him.”

Viktor hummed, then jolted with a realization.

“So that means you’ll …?

“Get his job? Yes, I hope so.”

Viktor cheered, and again the muffins flopped helplessly to the floor.

“You’ll be brilliant!”

Nina looked satisfied, smile smug and eyes twinkling.

“It’s not a guarantee but … I know Alexei will put in a good word, and they would have to consider my past experiences and contributions to this case …”

“They’d be a fool not to take you,” He smirked, an idea forming in his mind.  “I’ll bribe them, if I have to. Very few are resistant to my charm, you know,” he said, winking for show.

Nina laughed.

“Maybe we’ll save that for plan Z.”

Viktor gathered his sad pancake muffins, laughing along with her.

“What? I don’t even qualify as plan C?”

Nina snorted.

“C’mon lover boy, let’s get you back to Yuuri. My plans for office domination can wait another day.”

They walked on, and Viktor felt lighter than he had in a long, long time.

 

***

 

A hand prodded playfully through Alexei’s hair.

“I can’t believe how thin this has gotten.” Alexei slapped the hand away, affronted. Volya looked concerned. “You don’t think this’ll happen to me too, do you?”

“Seeing that your hair looks somehow fuller than the last time I saw you, I’d say you’re probably fine,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Oh good. I’d hate to get cursed with both the Kozar eyes _and_ the male pattern baldness from Mom’s side,” Volya said, sounding relived.

Interesting. Alexei had never known Volya to be concerned with vanity. Was it Isao’s doing, perhaps?

“We still look pretty good, I’d say,” Alexei said, more for Volya’s sake than his own. “I haven’t seen a single wrinkle appear yet.”

Volya chuckled.

“We can thank Mom’s Asian genes for that.”

Alexei lifted his coffee cup and took a sip; he’d drink to that.

Volya lifted his own cup of coffee - the addition ran in the family, after all - and took a sip. He placed it next to the book on the night stand. His finger trailed along the spine, contemplative.

 It was quiet for a minute before he spoke again, this time with an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

“Where are Mom and Dad?”

Alexei winced internally.

Volya didn’t need to know about the estrangement that had occurred between the three of them after the kidnapping; he’d save that for another day, when Volya had more time to adjust.

“They’re living in Prague now, so they’re flying to meet us in Saint Petersburg when I bring you home.”

Volya’s finger stilled. His face was carefully blank.

“I see.”

Alexei cleared his throat, feeling suddenly awkward. He got the feeling Volya suspected something was up, but he was too much of a coward right now to address it. He moved on.

“What’s that book you got there?” he asked, in a lame attempt to change topics.

Volya looked up, startled out of thoughts. He clasped the book and lifted it into the light for Alexei to see. It took his brain a few seconds to make out the English title.

“This right here is my hero – saved me from several boring hours with nothing to do. I slipped it into my bag before Tamaki’s people got me out of the house. I was curious, because it’s always been Isao’s favorite book.”

“ _Catcher in the Rye_?” Alexei asked, frowning. Why did that ring bells in his head? It was a well-known book, yes, but there was something else he was thinking of, he was sure of it …

“Can’t say I’m a fan - a bit too steam of consciousness for my taste, but I can see why Isao liked it. Holden embodies the misunderstood outsider, jaded from living in the normality that society deems fit. I bet he relates to him a lot.”

Alexei hummed, not able to offer much to the discussion, but curious nonetheless. He’d have to investigate that peculiar feeling later. Besides, there were much more pressing things at hand.

“I want to talk about what happened to you, Volya.”

Volya’s face tensed, which just confirmed Alexei’s growing suspicions. Volya had been deliberately side stepping the issue at hand. Deflection was a tactic Alexei was very familiar with, and he be damned if his own brother used it to avoid him.

“Sure, if you want,” he said after a pause.

“Good. Because I think we both know what the elephant in the room is.”

Volya’s shoulders hunched defensively.

“I’ve already laid it out to Tamaki. You can just get a briefing from him,” he said crisply.

And just like that, Volya completely closed off. It was like shutters to his mind were drawn and the doors were sealed tight.

Alexei frowned and stood up, irritated. He clasped the arms of Volya’s chair and leaned in. Volya started back unflinchingly, eyes steely.

“Do you really think I’d be satisfied with that?” Alexei’s hands shook, and he gripped the chair hard in an attempt to steady them. “I’m not asking you as a detective, Volya. I’m asking as a brother, as someone who’s concerned for you.”

Volya’s entire body was tense, but it must have been the right thing to say because a little bit of tension drained from his body. His arms were still defensively crossed, Alexei noted.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Volya scoffed. “Well where do I start? It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. I had everything I needed and nothing at all. I received almost all that I desired but learned to desire little once I learned his system. It wasn’t a bad life, but it certainly wasn’t a good one either.”

Alexei, feeling suddenly drained, stumbled back into his chair. What Volya said told him a lot, but simultaneously very little at all. He didn’t want to prod Volya while he was so clearly uncomfortable, but surely it needed to be done? Besides, who else would do it? But before Alexei could voice his concerns, Volya beat him to it.

“I’ll never forgive her for what she’s done to me - to us.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kitagawa. Ko. Kanbayashi-san. Whatever you want to call her,” Volya said heatedly. “She completely derailed our lives. She deserves what’s coming to her.”

Alexei flinched at the venom in his voice. Volya noticed his reaction and frowned, words like ice.

“I fully plan on testifying against her, Alexei. I’ve been preparing necessary materials for a while now.”

Alexei figured Volya would want to speak at the trial – it would have been completely opposite to his character not to – but he didn’t expect him to go to such great lengths. Besides, it was pretty much a given that he and Yuuri would win any case over those two.

“Why are you … ?” Alexei left the sentence hanging, but he could have filled it with any number of the questions in his mind right now.

Volya’s face darkened, interpreting his silence in his own way.

“Because I want to destroy her, Alexei. And unfortunately, the legal system is the only way to do it.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the last of Volya’s natural, inquisitive spark disappeared from his eyes. Now there was only shadows.

“I haven’t been wasting away these last seven years. Isao gave me everything under the sun to read, said a well-rounded education would prepare me as his successor. So I came across some legal books over time. I couldn’t read them all at once – that would be too suspicious, of course. But a few notes every few months or so? It was child’s play, Alexei,” he said, gripping the _Catcher in the Rye_ so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Isao is a smart man, but he’s also incredibly fallible. He got comfortable with me over time and I with him. I learned what drove him, what inspired him, what made him tick. I could see that he was falling for me, for my routine as the perfect son. Even now, stuck in holding, I know he still thinks I’m loyal to him. His hubris was mine for the taking.”

Alexei studied him, unnerved, and tried his best to keep a blank face. So this was what Tamaki was talking about. It was no wonder he was concerned.

“I don’t care if you think you’ve got it all figured out,” Alexei said firmly. “We’re getting you a lawyer and they can deal with all the logistics. You shouldn’t be worrying about this right now. Besides, there’s no way we’ll lose the case.”

Volya scoffed. “Oh, I know we’ll win. That’s not my goal here.”

Alexei waited, tensed.

“I’m going to _expunge_ her.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, almost too afraid of the answer.

Volya titled his head, considering, and then spoke in a steady voice. “Quid pro quo – it’s only fair, you know. She’ll get what’s coming to her; Yuuri and I will make sure of it.”

Volya’s smile quirked, and Alexei shivered.

“What exactly are you saying … ?”

His lips fell into a flat line, and for the first time the mask faltered, and Alexei could suddenly see the toll of the last seven years so clearly in the depths of his eyes. But by far the most unsettling thing – he knew Volya had deliberately let the façade fall in that moment; he _wanted_ to Alexei to see him as he was.

Volya laid the copy of the _Catcher in the Rye_ on the night stand. A few pages had dislodged themselves from the binding and jutted out from the rest, crumpled. He leaned forward and clasped his hands, eyeing Alexei intently.

“It’s time for a little game of chess.”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And with more angst than before! This chapter was my longest one yet for this story - more than 8200 words. The characters just had a lot to say, I suppose, which is expected given that I put them on pause for more than 5 months!
> 
> This was a super heavy OC chapter, which just reminds me how much confidence I've attained when it comes to creating my own characters. You all have been endlessly supportive of me during this journey, and have been nothing but kind and surprisingly enthusiastic with the Alexei/Volya/Nina subplot. I know everyone came here for Yuuri and Viktor - that's a given, right? Which just makes it so incredible that you've become just invested in the story of the detectives as you have with our skating boys. 
> 
> I have lovely readers :')
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, and thank you for sticking with me for so long! There's still more story to come, and I can't wait to share it with you all. I'll see you at the next update!


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